The blackened sky cast an eerie shadow over the sprawling mansion as Celia and Dalia calmly ascended the grand staircase unhurriedly, they had reached back before the determined time, their footsteps echoing through the dimly lit corridor. Celia's gaze, however, wandered beyond the steps, fixating on something that froze her in her tracks. Her eyes widened, her mouth agape, and a blood-curdling shriek escaped her trembling lips.
On the other side of the staircase stood Venezio, Alessia, and an unfamiliar figure, their attention now captured by Celia's vocal outburst. Celia's gaze remained fixed on a specific person, unaware that her accusation carried a weighty significance at that very moment. Dalia followed her line of sight, her eyes settling on the man, a loyal employee of his brother, working within a secret government agency.
"What's happening?" Dalia questioned, her voice filled with concern.
With a quivering index finger, Celia pointed shakily at the man, her hand betraying her fear. "Th-that man killed Vincent," she blurted out, surprised by the speed with which the words escaped her lips.
"He killed him. I distinctly remember his face, his piercing brown eyes," Celia continued, taking a step back on the staircase. Without hesitation, she descended with a swiftness that rivaled a bullet train. As she sprinted towards the entrance, she was abruptly restrained by strong arms, her body colliding with a solid chest. Her hands were painfully bound, rendering her movements futile, as she struggled against the captor's unyielding muscles.
"He'll kill me, please, let me go," she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her desperate cries filled the air as she fought against his grip, her heart pounding rapidly.
"Stop," his stoic voice commanded, his grasp loosening as he turned her around by her elbow. Tears flowed uncontrollably down her face as she glanced slightly to the side, locking eyes with the very person she had accused of Vincent's murder. Venezio's gaze followed hers, scrutinizing the expressions etched on both their faces.
Trembling and in a state of hysteria, Celia stood before him, her accusation having left him shocked.
"Come to my office, now," Venezio ordered, dragging Celia along, with Alessia, Dalia, and the accused man trailing behind them.
Once inside his office, Venezio kicked the door open and pinned Celia against the wall. Gripping her jaw tightly, he stared into her dark, fearful eyes. "Speak only the truth, and perhaps I will show you mercy this time," he growled. Celia attempted to free herself from his unyielding grip, but her struggles only intensified his painful hold. A sudden jerk from Dalia prompted him to release his grip on Celia's jaw.
"Bring the lie detector," Alessia hurriedly fetched the device as Venezio paced the room with an air of aggression.
The sound of approaching footsteps grew nearer, filling the office. Celia stood against the wall, flanked by Dalia, while the accused man stood near the couch.
Venezio was well aware of the consequences of betrayal within his mafia. The woman's accusation had sent a tremor of fear through his being, despite his innocence in Vincent's death. He knew that the don would spare no effort to eliminate him if any evidence tied him to the crime. He had remained loyal to the mafia, never divulging any information to the government. No, he had not.
"Don, here," Alessia presented the device, but Venezio shook his head and pointed at Celia. "On her," he ordered. Alessia forcefully attached the lie detector to Celia's wrist and head, guiding her to sit on the couch.
Taking a seat opposite Celia, Venezio crossed his legs and adopted a serious expression.
"Who killed Vincent?" his voice resonated with anything but tenderness, the desire to end her life simmering just beneath the surface. Celia's gaze shifted from him to the man seated on the adjacent couch. Clenching her fists in anguish, she croaked, "This man."
The room fell into an anticipatory silence, awaiting the lie detector's response. Everyone except Dalia was astonished at the absence of any incriminating evidence.
"Are you his partner?" Dalia inquired.
"No," the device remained silent, the green signal indicating no deception.
"Are you involved in this?"
"I'm not," the green signal persisted.
"Do you know him?"
"I don't know him," Venezio's patience wore thin, momentarily questioning the accuracy of the lie detector. However, he understood that it was a state-of-the-art device, capable of detecting falsehoods and even the slightest trace of deception.
"Are you working for someone?"
"No," but this time, the device turned red, its beeping sound alerting everyone in the room. Before he could process his next move, Venezio drew his gun from his back, pointing it at Celia. "I mean, except for attending parties or events. I don't work for an illegal crime organization," she hastily added, hoping to evade the impending threat. As he prepared to pull the trigger, the device abruptly returned to a green signal.
"Fuck it!" Venezio's patience snapped, his desire to end her life overpowering his better judgment. He squeezed the trigger once more, but before the gunshot echoed through the room, Dalia intercepted, forcefully throwing the gun to the far corner.
"She's fucking green signal in all! Don't test my patience," Dalia shouted in frustration. Without further ado, she turned to Venezio. "Now, test your man," she commanded, prompting Alessia to secure the lie detector on the accused man's wrist and head.
This time, it was Dalia who posed the questions. "Are you leaking information to the government?" The man understood how the device worked, yet his inner turmoil made it difficult to maintain composure. He knew that any increase in his heartbeat or nervousness could distort the truth, even if he spoke it.
"No," the device signaled a green light.
"Do you know her?"
"No," the device hesitated momentarily before turning green.
"Did you kill Vincent?"
"I didn't kill him," he uttered with a deadly glare towards Celia, his pulse quickening, perspiration trickling down his skin.
The signal flickered between green and red, leaving everyone in confusion. His heartbeat surged, and the turmoil within him became palpable.
Dalia repeated the question, her voice resolute. "Did you kill him?"
"No, I didn't kill him. She's lying, she's setting me up," he desperately struggled to regain control, but the lie detector indicated red, its incessant beeping filling the room.
"What was he wearing?" Venezio turned his attention to Celia. "A dark blue suit."
With determined clenched hands, he dialed a number on his phone, seeking confirmation regarding the man's clothing on the day of Vincent's murder, when the attackers infiltrated their territory. It took the security team five agonizing minutes to validate the information. However, their response plunged Venezio into a vortex of betrayal and deceit.
Ending the call, he pocketed his phone and extended his hand. Alessia understood his unspoken order and retrieved the gun that had been discarded by Dalia earlier. She handed it to Venezio, who disengaged the safety and aimed it in Celia's direction. Pressing the trigger, he prepared to unleash his wrath. But before Dalia could interject with a plea for reconsideration, a deafening gunshot reverberated through the otherwise silent room.
Celia breathed heavily, her eyes clenched shut. Alessia flinched, glimpsing the target of her boss's ire. Strangely, Celia felt no pain in her body. Perhaps when one's soul departs, the ability to feel pain dissipates. She braced herself for her last, breathless moments of existence, only to realize that she was still conscious. Slowly opening her eyes, she looked down at her heart area, where the bullet should have pierced through. To her astonishment, her dress remained pristine, devoid of any bloodstains. It was then that reality dawned upon her. She turned her head to the side and beheld a lifeless man, a bullet hole squarely between his eyes. A scream formed in her throat but failed to escape her lips.
And in that fleeting moment before losing consciousness, Celia's gaze locked onto a furious Venezio storming out of his office.
****
Who do you think the intruder is?
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His Villain
Action"I am merely a performer. I am not a whore or an object to satisfy your desires," tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke. "I don't care," he retorted callously. "Fuck you," she spat, her voice trembling with anger and defiance. "That was precisely...
