Chapter 153

The prison’s main gate loomed before me like a reminder of everything I’d tried to leave behind. The cold iron and the sound of the metal creaking as it swung open were almost familiar, as if hell itself were welcoming me. I parked the car, took a deep breath, and walked down the hallway I knew all too well.

The guards stared at me with a mixture of respect and fear. Some knew who I was. Others just sensed it.

“I want to speak to your superior.” My voice was firm, low, carrying the weight that only years of violence and command could give.

They looked at each other for a moment, then nodded. One of them walked away, and a few minutes later, the prison director, a man named Gustavo Lacerda, appeared with his usual expression of barely concealed distrust.

“Vincenzo.” He crossed his arms, studying my face. “I didn’t think I’d see you here again so soon.”

“I need to talk to Veronica. Alone.” — My voice wasn’t a request. It was a fact.

He frowned, but nodded slowly, aware of my past, aware of what was still left in me.

— Five minutes. No more. And if you try anything funny...

— I won’t try. — I cut him off.

I was led to the same room I’d been in a few days before. A cold, poorly lit room with a single narrow window that overlooked the prison’s inner courtyard. The sky outside was dark. Heavy clouds danced ominously, and the smell of a storm was approaching.

Veronica entered a few minutes later, handcuffed, wearing the beige prison uniform and an impassive expression, as if all this were just another game. The guards released her and left, leaving us alone.

She sat in the chair in front of me, crossing her legs with an irritating calm. The seconds stretched like rubber bands about to snap.

— What a surprise. — I said, with a slight ironic smile. — Did you come back to see me, Vincenzo? I miss you so much.

I didn’t answer. I just stared at her for a while, trying to understand what was true in that face. She was no longer the woman who had once driven me crazy. But she was still dangerous. She was still poisonous.

“You know why I’m here,” I finally answered.

She laughed softly, slowly getting up and walking to the window. Outside, the rain began to fall heavily, filling the silence of the room with its constant and melancholic rhythm. Veronica put her hand on the glass, as if she wanted to feel the water.

“I’ve always liked the rain,” she said thoughtfully. “There’s something liberating about it, don’t you think? As if everything could be washed away. Forgotten.”

“Does he really exist?” I asked, my deep voice breaking the moment. “The boy... Rafael. Is it true?”

She remained silent for a few seconds. I watched her like a cornered animal watching a predator. Trying to understand if she was going to lie. If she would smile. If she would cry. And then she turned her face to me, and for the first time in a long time, her eyes were clear. Painful. Real.

“Yes,” she whispered. “He exists. His name is Rafael. And he’s seven years old.”

Seven years old.

The confirmation hit me like a punch in the gut. My chest began to heave, and my breathing became uneven. It was real. All of this was real. This wasn’t another one of her lies. This wasn’t a trick.

I clenched my fists, trying to contain what was rising in my throat. My jaw clenched, my eyes starting to burn.

“Where is he?” I asked, my voice cracking. It wasn’t a question. It was a low growl, laced with pain and anger. “Where is he, Veronica?”

She began to cry.

The tears fell heavy, silent, as she pressed her hands against the window. I knew, in that instant, that I wasn't going to like the answer.

The rain was beating hard on the living room window as I stared at Veronica in silence. The drops fell like small punches on the glass, creating a melancholic rhythm that seemed to follow the rhythm of my heart. She was there, with her back to me, her hands resting on the window and her gaze lost in the empty, waterlogged prison courtyard. The silence between us was as dense as the heavy air of that place.

“Where is he?” I asked, my voice low and deep, full of anger and emotion. I felt my eyes start to burn, my breathing became irregular. “Where is Rafael?”

Veronica didn’t answer right away. She continued to look at the rain, as if she was gathering strength to say something that, even for her, hurt too much.

“He’s with the Japanese mafia,” she said, finally, in a whisper that I could barely hear.

My entire body stiffened. I took a step forward, in disbelief.

“What?”

She turned around slowly, her face downcast, her eyes watering. Veronica wasn’t one to cry easily. That… that gave me a bad feeling.

“I made a deal with them,” she continued, her voice shaking. “Before I was arrested. I thought I could control everything, like I always did. I thought I could get out of this clean. But I was wrong.”

“What kind of deal?” I took a step forward, anger growing in my chest like a wildfire.

She lowered her gaze, avoiding my eyes.

“I can’t tell you this, Vincenzo. Not yet. But… Rafael stayed in Japan. He was safe, at least until I failed them.” Tears began to stream down her face. “And I failed. They kept him. As collateral. As punishment.”

My fist clenched so tightly that I felt my nails digging into my palm. The blood pounded loudly in my ears. It was as if the world was falling down around me. Rafael. My son. Hostage to the mobsters. Because of her mistakes.

“You left our son with the Yakuza?!” I spat the words, control slipping through my fingers.

She sobbed, kneeling on the living room floor.

“I thought I could protect him. That they wouldn’t hurt him. It was either that or… something worse.”

I approached her, but stopped. Part of me wanted to scream, to break everything, to make her feel the same pain that was tearing through my chest. But the other part…

The other part thought about Rafael. How he must be now. Alone. Afraid. In the hands of monsters.

The truth had finally been revealed, but instead of relieving it, it brought a new weight. A new hell.

And I knew that from then on, nothing would be the same.

“I’ll get him,” I whispered, like a promise. “Even if I have to cross the world… or face an entire army.”

Veronica looked up, surprised. But I was already turning my back, walking away. The war was just beginning.
The Slave of Pleasure
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