CHAPTER:-1

   "AN EYE FOR AN EYE AND THE WHOLE WORLD GOES BLIND"

The rain lashed against the massive windows of Dante Marino's penthouse, a dark and stormy night mirroring the chaos inside him. He had just received terrible news, delivered by Sal, his most trusted man. Sal's face was pale, even in the dim light of Dante's study. "Marco," Sal had said, his voice barely a whisper. "He's gone. Suicide."

The word "suicide" echoed in Dante's mind, a cruel and mocking sound. Dante's world, a world of power and control, suddenly felt shaky. Marco, his younger brother, the gentle one, had been his light in the darkness. He was gone, and Dante felt a cold, empty rage.

"Elena Rossi," Sal said, placing a crumpled photograph on the dark wooden desk. "She rejected him. Publicly. Told him to... to end it."

Dante looked at the photograph. The woman's face was blurry, but he could see the shape of her jaw, the curve of her cheek. A cold fury rose within him. He didn't know the details, and he didn't care. Marco was dead, and this woman was the reason.

"Find her," Dante commanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Bring her to me. Alive."

Later that night, Elena was rushing through the rain-soaked streets, trying to escape the lies that had trapped her. She didn't know she was being followed. As she turned a corner, a black car screeched to a halt. Before she could react, strong hands grabbed her and pulled her into the car. The door slammed shut, and she was plunged into darkness.

When Elena woke up, her wrists were tied. She was lying on a cold, marble floor. The room was dimly lit, but she could see expensive furniture, dark curtains, and a feeling of danger. Her heart pounded in her chest. The door creaked open, and Dante Marino walked in.

He was tall and had sharp features. His eyes were cold, and his voice sent shivers down her spine.

"Welcome to your new home, Elena," Dante said, his voice low and menacing. "I hope you find it... accommodating."

Elena's eyes were wide with fear. "I-I don't understand," she stammered. "W-who are you, and why have you kidnapped me?"

Dante's face turned into a mask of rage. He grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back. "Marco Mario," he said, his eyes like ice. "My brother. You broke him. You took him from me."

Hearing Marco's name made Elena's mind go blank. She remembered the old days, the days she wanted to forget.

"You killed him," Dante yelled, bringing her back to the present. "You gave him pain. Now, it's my turn. I will give you a slow and painful death."

He yanked on her hair, enjoying the pain he caused.

"Dante... please," Elena said, struggling to sit up. Her voice trembled. "There's been a mistake. I didn't kill him. It was he who—"

A loud slap echoed in the room, cutting her off. Dante's hand had struck her face, turning her head. "Silence!" he said, his voice like cold steel. "You're in no position to plead innocence. Marco is dead because of you. And now... you'll pay. The fun begins tomorrow."

He turned and left the room, leaving Elena alone in the dim light, her lips bloody and her heart filled with fear.

Elena tried to wipe the blood from her lips with her tied hands, but she couldn't. She had held back her tears for so long, but now they flowed freely.

"I didn't kill him," she cried, her voice breaking. "No, I didn't kill him. He was the one who tortured me. He was the one who gave me so much pain. He was the one who planned to ruin me. How could I kill him? How?"

She didn't know who she was talking to, but it gave her a little peace. Exhausted and heartbroken, she fell asleep on the cold, dirty floor, surrounded by darkness.

The next morning, Elena woke up to the sound of a key turning in the lock. Dante walked in, his face hard and unreadable. He was holding a metal tray.

"Time for breakfast," he said, his voice flat.

Elena looked at the tray. It held a small bowl of plain porridge and a glass of water. She didn't feel hungry, but she knew she had to eat.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice weak. "Why are you blaming me for Marco's death?"

Dante didn't answer. He placed the tray on the floor and watched as she ate.

"You ruined him," he said finally, his voice cold. "You broke his heart. He loved you, and you threw it back in his face."

"That's not true," Elena said, her voice rising. "He hurt me. He made my life a living hell. I was scared of him."

"Lies," Dante said, his eyes filled with anger. "You're just trying to save yourself."

He stood up and walked to the door. "Remember," he said, turning back to her. "The fun begins today."

He left the room, locking the door behind him. Elena was left alone, her mind racing with fear and confusion. She didn't understand why Dante believed her to be the cause of his brother's death. Marco had made her college life a nightmare. He had constantly harassed her, spread rumors, and even physically threatened her. She had tried to stay away from him, but he wouldn't leave her alone.

One day, he had cornered her in an empty classroom. He had threatened her, his eyes filled with a dark rage. She had been terrified, and she had told him to leave her alone, to just end it all. She had meant for him to leave her alone, to stop bothering her. She never thought she would be tortured for the crime that she never committed.

Now, Dante was blaming her for his brother's suicide. She was trapped in his mansion, at his mercy. She didn't know what he was going to do to her, but she knew it wouldn't be good.

The days that followed were a blur of fear and pain. Dante subjected her to both physical and mental torture. He would come to her room at all hours of the day and night, asking her the same questions, accusing her of the same things. He would slap her, kick her, and pull her hair. He would whisper threats in her ear, telling her how he was going to make her suffer.

Elena tried to stay strong, but she was breaking. She was alone, scared, and in constant pain. She didn't know how much longer she could take it.

One night, Dante came to her room, his eyes filled with a cold fury. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back.

"Tell me the truth," he hissed. "Tell me why you killed my brother."

"I didn't kill him," Elena cried, tears streaming down her face. "I swear, I didn't kill him."

Dante slapped her hard, and she fell to the floor. He kicked her in the stomach, and she gasped for air.

"Liar," he said, his voice filled with hate. "You killed him, and now you're going to pay."

He left the room, leaving Elena on the floor, her body aching and her spirit broken. She didn't know if she could survive this. She didn't know if she wanted to.

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