Noémie's fingers trembled as she held the phone, its cold surface pressed to her ear. The voice that came through, though aged by exhaustion and warmth.
"B.P forty," her mother said.
"What are you saying?" Noémie gasped, barely able to form the words.
"He's stable now. Thanks for sending the money so quickly. I thought you weren't answering my calls because you didn't want to talk," her mother continued gently. "But I forgot…..... how much you cared for your father. Noémie, you saved him. The money you sent covered everything. If you could visit, just for a while...… it would mean so much. He'd feel stronger, just seeing your face."
Noémie swallowed hard. Her throat was dry, tight with emotion. She couldn't speak for a moment, but finally, she forced the words out. "This Sunday. I'll come."
They exchanged a few more soft words before the call ended. Noémie dropped the phone and stared at the floor. Her knees buckled, and she crumbled to the ground. Eliane and Annelise were there in an instant, kneeling beside her.
She clutched them both, tears streaming down her face. Her back still stung from yesterday's beating. The bruises from Matteo's cane left deep, throbbing lines. But for a moment, the pain faded beneath the warmth of her mother's voice....the pride, the love in her words.
That night, Eliane and Annelise prepared warm towels soaked in herbal balm. Noémie lay face-down on the bed, stripped down to just her underwear, her skin raw and flushed. She winced with every touch, but neither of them flinched or hesitated.
"It'll sting a little," Eliane murmured, gently dabbing at the wounds.
"You're so strong," Annelise whispered, brushing Noémie's hair away from her tear-stained face.
"I'm not," Noémie sobbed. "I'm just tired."
They worked in silence after that. Not because there was nothing left to say, but because sometimes, comfort lay in presence, not in words.
The next morning, the three girls walked to Matteo's house. It was routine by now. They entered the lavish home that smelled faintly of cigars and polished leather. Matteo was in the study, seated like a king, sipping something dark from a crystal glass.
Noémie was called in alone. The others stayed behind.
As soon as she stepped inside, she felt it—his presence.
Then, a sudden tug. Her head jerked backward. Matteo had grabbed her by the hair.
"How's the pain?" he asked, voice cool.
She gritted her teeth, fighting the tremor in her voice. "It's….... a little better."
Then, almost inaudibly, she added, "If you want to…... you can beat me again. I can never repay you. Not for what you've done for my father."
Her voice broke. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
Matteo's expression twisted. For a second, something flared behind his eyes....guilt? disgust? It vanished quickly.
He shoved her away. "Don't cross your line, bitch."
Noémie stumbled back, shocked. She barely noticed when he turned and stormed out of the room.
She stayed there, alone. Crying.
That night, a black sedan stood idle near an the quarter. The air was damp, fog curling around the tires.
Inside, Tomasz sat in the driver's seat, whispering into his phone. His voice was sharp but controlled.
Annelise arrived shortly after, dressed for the party. Her gown shimmered in the streetlight...sleek and dark blue with a slit up the side, her shoulders bare beneath a sheer shawl, heels clicking against the pavement.
She slid into the car beside him.
"How do I look?" she asked, half-nervous, half-teasing.
Tomasz glanced over. His eyes lingered. "Beautiful," he said simply, and she smiled.
They drove off, soft music playing through the speakers.
She leaned against his arm. "You always say that."
"Because it's always true."
She laughed, cheeks flushing. She traced patterns on his arm with her fingertip.
"You're in a good mood," Tomasz noted.
"I'm just happy to see you alone," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Finally."
The flirtation danced between them like embers. Her hand found his thigh. His free hand brushed her cheek. Their lips met briefly at a red light, the moment filled with heat.
They drove through a desolate stretch...no lights, no houses. Just trees and a broken road.
"Where are we going?" Annelise asked.
"Shortcut," he replied.
But then he slowed.
An old, half-collapsed house loomed in the distance.
Annelise sat up. "What is this place?"
Tomasz picked up his phone. "We're here."
Her heart thudded.
Before she could ask anything else, her door swung open.
Rough hands grabbed her.
She screamed, but it was muffled.
Tomasz didn't look back.