Eliane sat alone in her dimly lit apartment, her hands trembling as she wiped away the tears staining her cheeks. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional honk from the streets below. Her thoughts twisted into a labyrinth of self-doubt and despair.
"How did it come to this?" she whispered to herself, staring blankly at the wall. She had always prided herself on being strong, but now? Now, she felt like nothing more than a broken woman cornered by fate.
Her mother's frail body haunted her mind. The medical bills were relentless, an ever-growing mountain she could never hope to climb with her current resources. Her savings had dried up, and the suspension from the university had stripped her of her primary income. With no safety net, no one to turn to, she had no choice but to find a job....any job....that could sustain her and her mother.
She scoured job listings, desperation clawing at her insides. Grocery stores, waitressing, even housekeeping.....each option paid too little to make a difference. She tried applying at a few offices, but they turned her down due to a lack of experience outside academia. The world was merciless, indifferent to her suffering.
Then she found it.....a high-end restaurant catering to the rich. The pay was good, far better than the meager wages of other jobs. Without a second thought, she applied and was accepted. In her haste, she didn't bother reading the fine print of her employment contract. She only knew that she needed the money.
For a week, she was trained. Poise, etiquette, the art of subtle allure....her natural beauty made it easy for her to fit into the role. But there was an unease beneath the surface, a feeling she couldn't quite shake. Still, she forced herself to adapt. It wasn't about dignity anymore...it was about survival.
Rafael had been watching her, his interest deepening with every step she took into this world. When he read about the restaurant, a wicked smile curled on his lips. "Perfect," he muttered.
On Eliane's first night, Rafael was there, sitting in the VIP section. The moment she saw him, her stomach turned. Rage simmered beneath her skin, but she forced herself to maintain composure.
She walked over to him with a measured grace, placing a menu before him. Leaning slightly, she whispered, "For your wife's sake, leave me alone."
Rafael chuckled, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "Oh, Eliane, my dear, I love you more than I've ever loved my wife. You are everything she isn't. I won't let you go."
She clenched her teeth, suppressing the overwhelming urge to slap him. Instead, she straightened and walked away, but not before giving him a knowing smile.
That night, Rafael booked a room in the attached hotel. Eliane was given an order to serve him personally. Confused, she rechecked the request but found no mistake. An uneasy feeling settled in her chest. Before heading to his room, she did something on her phone...just in case.
She waited for 30 minutes. After that, she was scolded for the delay. Then, she reached his room.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked and entered with the drink tray.
The moment she stepped inside, Rafael locked the door behind her. A twisted grin spread across his face as he stepped closer.
Eliane backed away, her pulse hammering. "What are you doing?"
"You signed the contract," he said smoothly, trapping her against the wall. "Did you not read it? Waitresses here provide 'special services' to VIPs. That includes me."
Panic surged through her veins. "I'll file an FIR against you!"
Rafael laughed. "Go ahead. The contract you signed is legally binding. If you complain, you'll only ruin yourself."
"Help..." she tried to cry out, but Rafale silenced her by covering her mouth.
She attempted to speak, but she was unable to do so with her mouth covered.
"Bitch, you can't escape now," Rafale sneered, throwing her onto the bed.
He sat above her, his fury evident as Rafale used scissors to tear her dress.
Once the dress was gone, her body was revealed....perfect, like nature's ultimate creation.
Her hair tumbled in wild disarray, damp strands clinging to her flushed face. Her parted lips quivered with ragged breaths, and a deep warmth colored her cheeks and nose. Sweat traced delicate lines down her collarbones, glistening over the taut curve of her belly. Faint bruises kissed her thighs, where muscles trembled with exhaustion, and her reddened feet bore the weight of her struggle. In every undone strand, every heaving breath, there was a raw, unyielding beauty...fierce, breathless, and utterly intoxicating.
"I've dreamed of this moment for so long. Every night, I saw you in my dreams. Whenever you passed by me, it was intoxicating. Each time, I told myself, I have to survive your charm somehow. But I knew.....you would be mine. I just needed patience.
And now, look."
Rafael inhaled the scent of her neck.
"No, please! Don't.....don't do it! I'm begging you.....have mercy!" Her cheeks were flushed from crying, and her feet rubbed against each other in a desperate struggle.
There was a sharp knock at the door.
Rafael frowned, but before he could react, the door burst open. His wife stood there, her eyes wide with betrayal. Behind her, the hotel staff. The scene before them was damning.
"What the hell is this, Rafael?" his wife's voice trembled with fury.
Eliane, her face in tears, raised her phone. "I recorded our conversation before. I sent it to her before I came here."
Rafael's expression twisted in rage and desperation. "You bitch!"
Slap!
His wife struck him across the face before turning away. "We're done."
The hotel management, unwilling to let the scandal ruin their reputation, fired Eliane. She walked out with her head high, despite the ache in her chest.
Desperation left her no choice. So she returned to the one place that would take her.....the bar.
This time, she set her own terms. She would dance, but her face would remain covered. The anonymity gave her a sliver of control in a world that had stripped her of so much.
Matteo became a regular.
At first, he watched from the shadows, unable to reconcile the woman before him with the cruel professor he had once despised. But night after night, he returned, drawn to the sorrow that lingered in her movements. Slowly, his hatred twisted into something else.
A month passed, and Eliane's punishment ended. She returned to the university as if nothing had changed.
But Rafael hadn't forgotten. He burned with the need for revenge. He watched, he waited. And he planned.
Two years later.
Matteo was no longer the struggling student everyone mocked. He was rich. Powerful. Untouchable.
He stood in his grand office, hanging photographs on the wall....faces from his past. Faces that had tormented him. Eliane's was in the center, her picture stabbed through with a knife.
A woman in a sleek black suit entered, placing a special phone before him.
Matteo picked it up, a slow, cruel smile curling his lips.
"Let's begin."