They called him Weak, He Became Untouchable

The Rescue

The bodyguards moved with practiced efficiency, their heavy hands forcing Andrea to his knees on the cold kitchen floor. The larger one, a man with scarred knuckles, pressed down on his shoulders while the other secured his wrists.

"Wait," Andrea gasped, his voice strained with desperation. "Sofia, please—I have claustrophobia. I can't be locked in enclosed spaces. You know this about me!"

Sofia's face remained stone cold as she cradled Nikolas' bandaged hand. "I don't care what phobias you claim to have, Andrea. You hurt Nikolas, and now you'll pay the price for your violence."

"But Sofia, I never—"

"Enough!" Her voice cut through his protests like ice. "I'm done listening to your lies and excuses. You made your choice when you decided to hurt an innocent person."

Nikolas lifted his head slightly, his eyes meeting Andrea's over Sofia's shoulder. The victorious smile that spread across his pale features was brief but unmistakable—a silent declaration of his triumph.

He's enjoying this, Andrea realized with growing horror. This was all planned. Every single moment.

"Take him downstairs," Sofia commanded without sparing Andrea another glance. "Make sure the door is properly locked. I don't want any chance of him escaping and causing more harm."

The bodyguards hauled Andrea to his feet, their grip unyielding as they dragged him toward the basement entrance. His legs felt weak, whether from the recent blood donation or the rising panic, he couldn't tell.

"Sofia, please!" he called out one last time. "Check the surveillance! You'll see the truth!"

But Sofia had already turned away, helping Nikolas toward the front door. "Come on, darling. Let's get you to the hospital and have that hand properly treated."

"Thank you for protecting me," Nikolas murmured weakly, his voice carrying just enough volume for Andrea to hear. "I was so scared he might hurt me again."

The basement door yawned open like a mouth, revealing nothing but impenetrable darkness below. The musty smell of dampness and neglect wafted up, making Andrea's stomach clench with dread.

"No, no, please," he whispered, his breathing becoming shallow. "You don't understand—I can't go down there. I physically cannot handle enclosed spaces."

"Should've thought about that before you attacked Mr. Nikolas," the scarred bodyguard grunted, shoving Andrea forward. "Boss's orders are clear."

They forced him down the narrow wooden stairs, each step echoing in the confined space. The walls seemed to press inward with every breath, and Andrea's heart began racing uncontrollably.

The basement was worse than he'd imagined—a small, windowless room with concrete walls and a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The bodyguards pushed him inside and immediately turned toward the door.

"Wait!" Andrea lunged forward, but the door slammed shut with a finality that made his soul shudder. The sound of multiple locks clicking into place followed, sealing his fate.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

I can't breathe, he thought frantically, his hands groping along the walls. The walls are too close, too tight. Just like before.

His childhood trauma came flooding back—being seven years old, helpless and terrified as strangers stuffed him into the trunk of a car. The suffocating darkness, the smell of motor oil and despair, the realization that his parents were never coming back.

"Help!" he shouted, pounding on the door with his fists. "Somebody help me! I can't stay in here!"

His voice echoed back mockingly in the confined space. Above, he could hear the distant sound of a car engine starting—Sofia and Nikolas leaving for the hospital, abandoning him to his worst nightmare.

"Please!" he screamed again, his voice cracking with desperation. "I didn't hurt him! Check the cameras! Please, just check the cameras!"

But silence was his only answer. The bodyguards upstairs either couldn't hear him or simply didn't care. Minutes ticked by like hours as Andrea's panic mounted.

Cold sweat broke out across his forehead and down his back. His hands trembled uncontrollably as he felt along the walls, searching for any crack of light, any sign that he wasn't completely entombed.

This is just like that day, his mind whispered. Alone, abandoned, forgotten. No one cares if you live or die.

His breathing became rapid and shallow, each gulp of stale air making him feel more lightheaded. The walls seemed to be closing in, the ceiling lowering with each heartbeat.

Suddenly, sounds of commotion erupted from upstairs—shouting, crashes, what sounded like a fierce struggle. Andrea pressed his ear to the door, trying to make sense of the chaos above.

Are the bodyguards fighting someone? he wondered, his panic momentarily replaced by confusion.

The sounds of conflict continued for what felt like an eternity, then abruptly ceased. An eerie silence settled over the house, broken only by Andrea's labored breathing.

Just as his legs began to give out and darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, a brilliant beam of light cut through the basement gloom. The door had burst open.

"Oh my God!" a woman's voice cried out, clear and strong. "Andrea! I found you!"

Through his haze of panic and near-unconsciousness, Andrea saw a figure silhouetted against the light—a woman with long, flowing hair rushing down the stairs toward him.

"Call an ambulance immediately!" she shouted to someone upstairs. "He's having a severe panic attack!"

Gentle hands lifted his head, cradling him against a warm, reassuring presence. "It's okay, Andrea. You're safe now. I'm here. Everything's going to be alright."

Who is she? was his last coherent thought before consciousness slipped away entirely.

The steady beeping of medical monitors slowly pulled Andrea back to awareness. Clean, antiseptic smells replaced the musty basement odors, and soft lighting replaced the oppressive darkness. His body felt heavy but mercifully relaxed.

"Doctor, he's waking up!" The same gentle voice from before called out urgently.

Andrea's eyes fluttered open to see a beautiful woman sitting beside his hospital bed. She had striking features—high cheekbones, kind eyes, and an air of quiet strength that seemed familiar somehow.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice warm with genuine concern.

A doctor appeared, checking his pulse and examining his pupils with a small flashlight. "Everything looks normal now. The panic attack was severe, but you're out of danger. Your body just needs time to recover from the stress."

The woman visibly relaxed, her shoulders sagging with relief. "Thank God. I was so worried when I found you."

Andrea's voice came out as a whisper, his throat raw from screaming. "Thank you... for saving me. But who... who are you?"

The woman smiled, her eyes twinkling with warmth and something that looked like long-held affection. "My name is Maria Konstantinou, Andrea. I'm your sister, and I've come to take you home."