2025-09-02 05:44:44
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025. The Accusation
Niccolo sat in his car, hands still on the steering wheel. They still had a whole week left before the month ended and for a whole week, he didn't add anything into Roberto's meals. The voice told him if he did, he would pass away in under a month, but this was just two weeks, it made Niccolo wonder just how much and frequently Teddy had added it. Also, when he had left the mansion earlier, Roberto had shown no signs of weakness— at least, none so severe as to suggest he was on the brink of death. The memory of the old man’s hard eyes and the forceful way he had swung his walking stick at one of the staff just that morning was still fresh in his mind. Roberto, frail though he appeared, had not seemed ready to fall.His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar, cold vibration of the voice inside his head.>Go to the address I will give you. There, you will find an elderly woman. Tell her your name, and she will hand you your reward.
023. The Date
Two weeks had slipped by, and with each passing day Niccolo could see how time was cutting Roberto down. His once commanding voice had grown thinner, and his appetite which was once insatiable, had dwindled to almost nothing. Even his skin seemed to betray him; the flush of life draining away until he looked like a faded painting left too long in the sun.Niccolo observed it all quietly. Where another man might have felt pity, he felt nothing. Sympathy was a luxury reserved for those who had not tried to break him. Roberto was not one of them. If anything, Niccolo took it as a sign: the old lion’s teeth were dulling, and it was finally time to strike.One evening, he called Selene and Mary into his room. The air in the dimly lit quarters was heavy, his voice low and deliberate.“Pack as much cash as you can into duffel bags,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. “At night, I’ll take them out one by one to my car. We’ll store them at my apartment for now.”The women
023. The Date
Two weeks had slipped by, and with each passing day Niccolo could see how time was cutting Roberto down. His once commanding voice had grown thinner, and his appetite which was once insatiable, had dwindled to almost nothing. Even his skin seemed to betray him; the flush of life draining away until he looked like a faded painting left too long in the sun.Niccolo observed it all quietly. Where another man might have felt pity, he felt nothing. Sympathy was a luxury reserved for those who had not tried to break him. Roberto was not one of them. If anything, Niccolo took it as a sign: the old lion’s teeth were dulling, and it was finally time to strike.One evening, he called Selene and Mary into his room. The air in the dimly lit quarters was heavy, his voice low and deliberate.“Pack as much cash as you can into duffel bags,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. “At night, I’ll take them out one by one to my car. We’ll store them at my apartment for now.”The women
022. Thoughts In The Dark
Roberto asked again, his question lingering in the air, heavy and dangerous. “Why are you protecting her?”Niccolo could feel the weight of those words pressing on him, demanding an answer. Every instinct screamed at him to apologize, to drop to his knees and beg for mercy. That was what Roberto wanted, what everyone in that mansion had been trained to do, to submit. But the anger burning in Niccolo’s chest was stronger than his fear.He stood tall, and said nothing.Roberto’s eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. Silence was not submission, it was defiance. “I’ll ask you one more time,” he said softly, dangerously, “why are you protecting her?”Niccolo clenched his jaw but remained silent.The old man’s smile widened, but it wasn’t amusement, it was the smile of a predator. With a swift motion, Roberto lifted his walking stick and struck Niccolo across the shoulder. The crack echoed through the room. Niccolo winced, but he didn’t move.Another strike. The stick slammed into his ribs,
021. The Meeting
Roberto rarely called for meetings in the grand, dimly lit parlor of the mansion. When he did, everyone understood that it was not out of routine but necessity, or worse, punishment. That morning, the sound of the brass bell clanging three times echoed through the halls, summoning all of them. Niccolo arrived last, trying not to appear anxious. The others were already gathered: Selene standing rigid as a statue, her hands clasped in front of her like a schoolgirl awaiting punishment; Teddy with his back slightly bowed, gaze lowered; Mary seated on the edge of her chair, eyes darting nervously from face to face. Two others stood in the shadows, older servants whose names Niccolo had never learned, men who had been swallowed so completely by this house that their identities had faded. But what struck Niccolo most was Roberto himself. The man leaned heavily on his carved ebony walking stick, the silver wolf’s head at its top glinting in the pale light filtering through the curtains. N
020. The Plan
Niccolo sat on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped together, the dim light from the single lamp in the corner stretching his shadow long against the wall. Teddy, Selene, and Mary sat opposite him, the air in the room heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. The walls seemed to close in on them, the silence only interrupted by the faint ticking of the old clock in the hallway. It was Teddy who finally broke the stillness, his gruff voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You must never, and I mean ever, let Roberto find out what your real name is,” Teddy said, his weathered face tightening with concern. “If he suspects, even for a second, he’ll kill you. Without hesitation.” Niccolo nodded slowly. He had already imagined it a hundred times. The man was ruthless; that much he had seen for himself. Still, hearing it from Teddy, who had been at Roberto’s side for decades, made the danger feel more immediate. “I know,” Niccolo murmured, his eyes lowering to the floor. “But I couldn’t k
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