I knock on Rafael's office door the next morning, a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling in my stomach. As I wait for his response, my mind drifts back to the night before. After falling asleep in that twisted, uncomfortable position, I woke later on my back, clean and nestled under the sheets. But the sound of Rafael's ragged breathing had jolted me fully awake. He was moaning in pain, trapped in the throes of a nightmare.

The scene had been eerily similar to the last time he froze up next to me, his body rigid and trembling. Both times, my instinct had been the same—to sing softly, just like I used to with Melina when we were younger, trying to soothe her from bad dreams. The way my voice seemed to pull Rafael back from whatever darkness had him in its grip felt... strange. Like I had some kind of power over him, a way to ground him when he was lost. It made me question who he really was beneath the ruthless exterior. The way he struggled in his sleep—his hands fisting the sheets, his chest heaving as though he was suffocating—didn't match the cold-blooded killer image he projects. Something terrified him, something deep and hidden. But I wasn't foolish enough to ask.

I shake the lingering thoughts away as I enter his office, my eyes adjusting to the bright morning sun streaming through the office windows. Wiping my slightly clammy hands on the soft fabric of my floral skirt, I take a slow breath. The skirt—a pale pink dotted with tiny white flowers—brushes gently against my skin with every movement, swaying slightly as I step forward. Its high waist cinches me in just right, accentuating my figure, while the white crop top I paired it with shows a sliver of skin at my midriff. It's a simple outfit, but it feels right for the sunny morning.

"Sit," Rafael commands, barely glancing up as he stubs out his cigarette. His tone leaves no room for hesitation, and I wince slightly as I lower myself into the chair. The soreness from last night's punishment still lingers, making every movement a reminder of my precarious position. If Rafael notices the wince or hears the small noise that escapes my lips, he doesn't acknowledge it. Maybe he chooses not to.

The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken tension. Finally, I break it. "You asked for me," I say, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest.

Rafael regards me for a moment, then lights another cigarette. The smoke curls lazily in the air as he asks, "How smart are you, Francesca?"

The question catches me off guard, throwing me off balance. His eyes narrow, studying me like he's measuring my worth with each second that passes.

I swallow, my heart picking up its pace. Squaring my shoulders, I meet his gaze, refusing to back down. "I believe I'm an intelligent person," I respond, though I can't help the hint of annoyance that slips into my tone. I might have a knack for provoking Rafael, but his condescending statements never fail to irk me.

A sly smirk curls at the corner of his mouth. "Why am I not surprised by that answer?" His tone drips with amusement like he's already anticipated my reaction. I shrug, masking the nervous flutter in my chest, waiting for the inevitable punishment that often follows when I dare to show a little defiance.

Instead, he leans forward and places a file on the desk in front of me, sliding it across the polished wood with a casual gesture. "You're going to the birthday party with Danny," he says, his words making my heart skip a beat. "And you're going to do something for me."

I blink in surprise, my pulse quickening for reasons other than fear. I'm going outside? After all this time trapped in this mansion, I'm finally being allowed out?

I pick up the folder from the table and flip it open, my eyes landing on a photo of a family of three. The man, likely in his thirties, stands beside a woman in her late twenties. They're both smiling, but it's the third figure that draws my attention—a strikingly beautiful young girl around Danny's age. Beneath the photo, detailed information about them spills out, each line brimming with insight.

"I need you to become good friends with the woman in the picture on Saturday," Rafael states, his voice flat as if asking me to pass the salt. "Learn what she likes so you can connect with her using the information in the file."

A rush of confusion surges through me, and before I can filter my thoughts, I blurt out, "Why?" The moment the word leaves my lips, regret washes over me as Rafael's brow arches and a chill settles in my stomach.

"Why is none of your fucking business," he replies, the icy edge to his tone slicing through the air. He takes another drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling between us like an unspoken threat. "Your job is to make sure you're close to her by the end of the party. And after that, stay in touch." His eyes bore into mine, the unyielding command lingering like the smoke in the room.

I swallow hard, my pulse racing. "Understood, but how will I keep in touch with her?"

"You will get your phone Saturday morning." My eyes widen at his words, a mix of hope and dread swirling within me.

"If you want, you can call your fucking brother-in-law or your sister. It won't change anything. The bastard knows where you are. He just can't dare take you away. He knows hell is waiting for him if he tries." A shiver runs down my spine at the cold finality of his words. I had always suspected that Thomas had pieced things together, but the idea that he was powerless to rescue me is chilling.

"And I want him too," Rafael adds, his tone sharp as the click of a gun. "But now, get out." He turns his attention back to the papers strewn across his desk, the unspoken end to our conversation hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

I rise quickly from the chair and head for the door, clutching the file, my mind spinning. Who is this woman, and why is it so crucial for me to befriend her? But the questions swirl unanswered as I focus on one simple truth: I finally get to leave the mansion. Even if it's just for a party, it's a chance to breathe fresh air again.

Excitement propels me forward, but the thought of my phone weighs on my mind. I'll finally be able to call Melina. I want to hear her voice, but then what if I only worry her more? The image of her frantic face flashes in my mind, and I push the thought aside, forcing myself to focus on finding Danny to share the news with him. I can't wait to see his face light up. First, I check his room, but when I don't find him there, I head toward the kitchen, knowing he often likes to grab a snack when he gets home from school.

As I step into the kitchen, Danny's face lights up with unbridled joy. "Auntie Frankie!" he shouts, his voice filled with excitement. His smile stretches from ear to ear, his lips adorably smeared with ice cream. The sight of him, so carefree and happy, instantly lifts my spirits.

"Hello, baby," I say affectionately, making my way over to plant a soft kiss on his head. His hair is slightly tousled, likely from a day of play at school. I can't help but notice the sugar-induced energy radiating from him, no doubt a result of the ice cream treat.

I glance at Julio, raising an eyebrow, silently questioning his decision to allow such an indulgence so early in the day. He's leaning against the kitchen counter, looking relaxed in a casual t-shirt and jeans. His expression is a mix of amusement as he meets my gaze.

"What? He was begging for it. I figured a little ice cream wouldn't hurt," Julio says with a casual shrug, his tone light and unapologetic. There's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, suggesting he's well aware of the potential sugar rush consequences.

I shake my head, unable to suppress a small smile of my own. Turning back to Danny, I gently ruffle his hair, feeling the soft strands between my fingers. "How was school, honey?" I ask, my voice filled with genuine interest.

Danny looks up at me, his eyes bright and wide with excitement. He's wearing his favorite superhero t-shirt, now adorned with a few drops of melted ice cream. His sneakers, untied, as usual, tap against the chair legs as he continues to lick his cone with gusto.

"It was good! Daddy got me ice cream on the way back," Danny replies, beaming at Julio. "That's nice. Did Daddy tell you the good news?" I ask, eager to share the excitement. But before Danny can answer, Miguel's voice cuts in from across the room.

"What good news?" he asks, prompting Julio to fill both him and Danny in on the details.

Suddenly, Miguel's eyes widen with excitement. "Wait, that means we can go on our date then!" he exclaims, his eyes sparkling with excitement. I can't help but close my eyes, a soft chuckle escaping my lips. This boy never gives up.

As I part my lips to respond, Julio beats me to it, launching into a spirited argument with Miguel in rapid-fire Spanish. Their playful bickering fills the kitchen.

Just then, I notice Pedro by the stove, realizing I must have overlooked him earlier with my attention focused on Danny. I give Danny a quick kiss on the head before making my way to Pedro, leaving Miguel and Julio to their debate about a date we all know isn't possible.

"Señorita Frankie," Pedro greets me, dipping his head slightly as he stirs something aromatic in a large pot.

"Hi, Pedro, do you have a minute?" I ask, my voice tinged with hesitation. There's something that's been bothering me for a while, and I haven't had the chance to bring it up until now.

He pauses his stirring, turning to face me with a slightly furrowed brow. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's as good as it can be," I assure him. "I just wanted to ask something, and I'd understand if you can't answer."

Pedro turns off the stove, giving me his full attention. "Let's hear it, child," he says, his tone encouraging.

Taking a deep breath, I voice my question. "I've noticed that... there aren't any women around. No female staff, I mean. It's just... strange, I guess. Is there a reason for that?"

Pedro's expression shifts, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He seems surprised by my question, but not entirely shocked. "It's by Rafael's design," he finally says. "He doesn't want any women working here."

"Why?" I ask, frowning.

He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's... complicated, dear, and I don't know if I should really go into details."

"No problem, I understand I'm a prisoner here," I say, trying to mask my disappointment. "I just wondered who did the shopping for the clothes I wear since I've never seen any female staff around."

"That's not why I can't tell you, dear," Pedro says gently. "Even if you were Rafael's wife, it still wouldn't be my place to explain the lack of female staff."

My eyes widen at his words. "Even if I was his wife? What the hell could be the reason?" I blurt out, the words tumbling from my mouth before I can stop them.

"If you're the one, you will find out," Pedro says cryptically, turning back to the stove.

"The one? What do you mean?" I ask, but Miguel chooses that moment to walk over to his father, giving me a small smile before they begin to converse. I'm left standing there, struggling to make sense of Pedro's cryptic words.

What the hell did he mean?

RAFAEL