The Mask and the Mission

When the door of the washroom opened and the corridor light returned to the hall, Seline noticed that the mask had slipped back into place with surgical precision. The dinner continued, the conversations resumed, and Stefano spoke normally — as if nothing had happened.

At the end of the corridor, while returning to the table with her dress smoothed by hands that now felt like accomplices, Seline promised herself she would do whatever it took to survive. She would learn to disguise, to listen, to observe. If the price was to lie and deceive, so be it — for now. Yet, the memory of Yarin’s tender gaze remained etched in her mind like a possible map to salvation.

She didn’t yet know how, but that connection — so fragile and so dangerous — could be the crack through which her life might be saved. And as the dried wine marked a dark line against the silk, Seline felt the mission was larger than invading a house: it was perhaps a test of who she was capable of becoming.

Almost reaching the table, after thinking for a long moment, she finally answered Yarin.

_ “We had… a couple’s argument, you know.”

_ “It’s complicated.”

_ “No need to worry.” — She said this with a faint smile toward Stefano, who remained expressionless. He looked at her mouth for about nine seconds — brief, but enough for the tension to settle heavily upon Seline again.

Dinner was nearing its end, and the weight of the night still echoed in Seline’s chest. The conversations around the table began to scatter as the staff discreetly collected the silver platters. The restrained laughter of a few guests contrasted with her quickened breathing, still caught under Stefano’s watchful gaze that followed her every move.

At that moment, when Yarin said goodbye to her sister-in-law with a kind smile, Seline knew she had to begin what Stefano had ordered her to do. Her heart pounded harder, her throat went dry, and before the silence became unbearable, the words slipped out, trembling:

— “C-could you… give me your phone number?” — Her voice came out soft, almost a whisper, as if afraid she was moving too fast.

Yarin, surprised by the sudden request, gave a sweet and genuine smile, her light green eyes reflecting a tenderness that brought Seline a brief sense of relief.

_ “Of course, dear.” — she replied without hesitation, reaching out to hold Seline’s hand for a brief moment.

_ “It’ll be nice to talk more. It’s always good to have someone to count on.”

Seline’s heart trembled. It was the first step — she felt as though she was deceiving kind and gentle Yarin, but she had no choice, for she had been thrown into the maze of Stefano’s commands. She kept that number as if it were a hidden treasure — the beginning of her first and far from simple task.

Soon after, Yarin and Marcus stood up. Her husband, as always, wore a relaxed expression and an easy posture. He shook Stefano’s hand with a slightly prolonged grip, while Yarin embraced Seline briefly, yet warmly.

_ “See you soon, Seline,” — Yarin whispered in her ear.

_ “Don’t hesitate to call me.”

Seline smiled faintly, unable to reply. She merely nodded, swallowing the fear and unease that threatened to expose her.

When the couple left the hall, silence fell like a heavy curtain. The clinking of silverware ceased, the footsteps of the servants faded down the corridors, and only she and Stefano remained. He said nothing. He merely stared — motionless — with the look of a patient predator.

Seline lowered her eyes, trying to find comfort in the fabric of the dress Yarin had lent her, but the tension in the air was so thick it seemed to suffocate her.

Suddenly, Stefano rose, pushing the chair back with calculated force. The sound echoed through the hall and made Seline flinch. In two long strides, he stood before her. Before she could react, he seized her arm roughly, his strong fingers digging into her fragile skin.

_ “Stand up.” — he ordered, his voice low but filled with a danger that left no room for defiance.

Terrified, Seline obeyed without protest, trying not to stumble as he dragged her through the corridor lit by golden lamps. The silence of the mansion turned into an oppressive tunnel.

She didn’t know where she was being taken, but every fiber of her body told her that punishment awaited.

Her heart pounded violently, her short breaths betraying the panic consuming her. The pain in her arm burned under his grip — but what hurt most was the realization that he held absolute power over her in that moment, and that the darkness ahead concealed secrets she was not yet ready to face.

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