The golden elevator chimed softly as it stopped at the topmost floor of the towering building. The walls shimmered with polished marble, and the air itself was perfumed, thick with roses and sin. Annelise stepped out cautiously, the silence of the corridor only magnifying the desperate pounding of her heart.
Her bruises still ached under her borrowed dress. She had tried to hide the wounds—rouge over the slap marks, foundation to mask the swelling, but her broken spirit couldn't be covered. Merci had dropped her off without a word, only a smirk lingering as the elevator doors closed.
Standing before the intricately carved double doors, Annelise hesitated. Her fingers trembled slightly before she knocked.
The doors opened by themselves, slowly, ominously.
Inside, she found herself in a grand private theater. Velvet seats arranged in elegant tiers, a wide stage draped in thick crimson curtains, and golden cherubs carved into every corner. The dim lights flickered like candle flames. In the center of the stage was a lone dancer.
The woman swayed, her movements slow and sultry, each step deliberate. Her hips rolled with serpentine grace, her arms curling above her head like smoke. Her back arched as she dropped to her knees, only to rise again with a sensual twirl. Her dress shimmered....thin, barely there, clinging to her like a whisper.
Annelise watched in muted horror. The dance was provocative, yes, but there was something more.....an undercurrent of sorrow, of humiliation hidden beneath the performance. The dancer looked like a puppet, guided by unseen threads.
She stepped forward, still unnoticed, and as she neared the stage, she caught a glimpse of the woman's face. Something clicked. That curve of the cheek….... that sorrowful gaze…
" Professor ?" she whispered.
As though hearing that word in a nightmare, the dancer faltered for just a second. Her eyes widened, and she turned her face away.
From the plush armchair in the first row, a slow clap echoed. "Bravo, Professor," came a cruelly familiar voice.
Matteo.
Annelise froze.
Matteo leaned forward from the shadows, dressed in an opulent black suit with a silver lapel pin shaped like a serpent. His smirk was the same one she remembered from college...timid, almost grateful back then. But now it had fangs.
"Well, well," Matteo said, standing and spreading his arms mockingly. "Welcome back, old friend."
Annelise's blood ran cold. Eliane, shaking, stepped off the stage and wrapped one arm around herself, trying to shield her barely-covered body. The other hand grasped Matteo's sleeve as if silently begging.
"I....." Annelise stammered. "I didn't know. I thought..."
"You thought your past would never catch up to you?" Matteo cut in, voice calm but slicing through her like ice. "That your pretty little life would go on unpunished?"
"I'll go to the police," Annelise snapped, though her voice cracked. "I'll report you. This…... this is illegal!"
Matteo gave a short laugh, then drew Eliane into a mock embrace. "The police? You think you still have power?" He turned to her, voice dropping. "Does your mother know that her daughter is not a successful model anymore ?"
Annelise froze.
"Does your father know where the money you send really comes from?"
Her lips parted, but no words came. Matteo stepped closer, now towering over her. "You ruined my life. Professor, too. You made me suffer while you played queen. Now…...." he gestured to the seats, "the curtain rises on your act."
"I'm sorry," she choked. Her knees trembled. "Please, Matteo. I was young. Stupid. I didn't know the damage...."
"Save it."
He snapped his fingers. Ladina entered, carrying a black leather folder. Matteo tossed it at Annelise's feet.
"A contract," he said. "Employment. Accommodation. Food. Safety. But complete obedience. Sign, and you get to protect your image, your parents, and maybe, just maybe, some of your dignity. Refuse?"
He leaned in, whispering near her ear. "And I will upload everything. The footage Merci recorded, the bruises, your screams. The world will see what you truly are."
Annelise's breath hitched. Her knees gave in, and she collapsed onto the floor, clutching her arms around herself.
Eliane turned away, crying silently.
"Please…....." Annelise begged. "Don't do this. I'll do anything. Just…... don't ruin me."
"You ruined yourself," Matteo said coldly.
"I was wrong…..... I know I was wrong…....."
"No one cares about your guilt."
Annelise stared at the paper through tear-blurred eyes. Her hands trembled as she picked up the pen. She paused one last time, hoping.....somewhere...that someone would save her. But no one came.
With a trembling signature, the ink sealed her fate.
Matteo clapped his hands once, satisfied. "Bravo, Annelise. Bravo."
He looked up at the ceiling. Somewhere above, the stage lights brightened, as if the show had only just begun.
And in that moment, Annelise realized: this wasn't a rescue.
This was her debut.