Madeleine
I wake up in a strange room. The air is fresh, quiet, and bright.
I’m alive?
The bed beneath me is softer than anything I’ve slept on in years, and the faint smell of cedar and leather clings to the air.
My body feels heavy. My limbs ache as though I’ve been run over by a bus. My throat is dry, and it feels as if someone stuffed my head full of cotton.
The first thing I hear are muffled voices right outside the door, droning in the background like a distant thunderstorm.
“I can’t tell you what the long term consequences will be,” someone says in a cool, clinical voice. “ It is likely that there might be lasting damage to her nervous system.”
“Is there anything you can do?” Rafael’s voice is low, soft, but no less commanding.
“No. The dosage was extremely high. Frankly, Sir, I’m surprised she is still alive.”
“Do everything you can for her.”
The world swims in and out of focus, nausea pushes up in my throat, and I think I pass out. When I manage to drag my eyelids apart again, the sun is a little brighter, setting the dark wood furniture aglow in a golden hue.
Something shifts on the edge of my vision. I gasp and turn my head in that direction.
It’s Dom.
Still dizzy, I relax and stare at him. I can't believe he's here.
He’s sitting beside the bed, leaning back in a wingback chair with one ankle resting on his knee.
“You’re awake,” he says, his voice low and smooth.
I try to push myself up, but my arms give out. My head spins, and I fall back against the pillows, a soft groan escaping my lips.
“Take it easy,” he orders, and gets to his feet.
He pours a glass of water from a crystal carafe on the bedside table. I try to take the glass, but he won’t let me. Instead, he lifts me up and holds the tumbler to my lips.
I must be in heaven. Or it’s the best dream I’ve ever had.
“Where…” I manage a soft rasp. I clear my throat and try again. “Where am I?”
“In a safe place,” he replies vaguely.
But even as the more rational part of myself revolts against his words, another part of me believes him.
“You saved me?” I ask.
“Yes.” He studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “What were you even doing in a place like that? You are lucky I was there, or you’d be dead now.”
He gives me a smile that I’m almost familiar with, and it takes me back to the old days.
Part of me is ashamed to see him. I betrayed him, myself and my faith. I’m no longer the pious convent girl I used to be. But here he is. I get to see him again. The only light in my bleak life.
Then a woman’s desperate cries, high and raw, rips the air apart. She screams and screams. It slowly dies down, turning into a wet gurgle. I can hear nothing else but the pain she’s enduring.
I flinch and turn to Dom. I need to escape here with him. He’s too kind, too good for this place. It’s far too dangerous for him to be here.
And then I see his face, unmoved and undisturbed by the scream.
A giant wake-up call sobers me. This is not him. He's not my Dom.
Memories of the night before flood back. Rafael Andoletti telling me to drink the wine. The scarred man with his gun. The poison burning a hole through my body.
Dom never existed. It has always been him - Rafael Andoletti
“What was that?” I ask, my voice shaking.
Rafael barely reacts. He takes a step back, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
But I can’t stop hearing it, the terror in that voice. “Who was it?”
He looks at me, his dark eyes unwavering. “The girl… from last night. The one with the red hair.”
I blink, the words not registering at first. “What?”
“That’s what happens to people who cross me,” he explains in that infuriatingly calm voice. “She’s the one who poisoned our drinks… and then she tried to pin it on you.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “That’s not true. She… she helped me. She was kind.”
“She used you.” Rafael's voice is tinged with cold anger. “She’s done it before.”
The earth feels like it’s crumbling beneath me. That can’t be true. The warmth in her voice, her kind smile, her vehement attempt to protect me. Was it all just an act?
“What are you doing to her?” I ask, though I’m not sure I want to know.
“Me? I’m not doing anything,” Rafael replies, his voice hardening. “I’m here with you.”
His words send a chill down my spine - there is a monster behind the Dom mask, and I've never seen it more clearly.
I can’t bear to see this side of him. I can’t bear that we reunited under such brutal conditions - both of us different people, betraying our past together.
I need to get out of here.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the blanket slipping off as I do. My skirt pulls all the way up my legs, revealing the top of my thigh to Rafael, and before I can adjust my clothes, his voice cuts through the oppressive silence that suddenly hangs in the air.
“Stop.”
I freeze, my heart pounding as I follow his gaze. His eyes are fixed on my right thigh, his expression darkening.
“What’s that?”
My stomach drops. The faint circular marks left by the cilice stand out starkly against my pale skin. The bruises are fading, but I never allow them to vanish completely. I always go back to make them bloom again. The pain is a constant reminder that my soul is on the line.
“It’s nothing,” I say quickly, yanking the skirt over my thighs to hide my shame.
“Who did that to you?” he demands, his voice low but laced with steel.
“No one,” I stammer, avoiding his gaze.
“Don’t lie to me,” he snaps, stepping closer. He looms over me, his very presence robbing the air from my lungs.
“I’m not,” I say. I’ve never told anyone the truth about my bruises. It should feel heavier, more shameful, but somehow, it doesn’t.
His jaw tightens, his tone softening, though it’s no less dangerous. “You don’t belong in this world. You are going to get yourself killed.”
Something in his tone - pity, mixed with just the slightest bit of disgust - makes my chest tighten with anger.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “I don’t need your help. I’ve been doing just fine without you for almost a year now.”
His lips curl into smirk. A cold, humourless sneer that chills me to the bone. “Are you sure about that, Sister Francis?”
The use of my old name hits me like a slap, knocking the wind out of me.
“You forgot about me, Sister Francis,” he says in a soft, almost menacing tone, “but I never forgot you.”
The room feels like it’s closing in on me, the walls pressing closer with every second. My past - the one thing I’ve tried so hard to hide - is staring me in the face. And it came to me in the guise of Rafael Andoletti.
No! No, no no. I can’t be here. I can’t do this.
Like a prey animal trapped by a hunter, I wildly look around, searching for an escape.
I find the exit. It’s not even hidden. It was right in front of me all along. I don’t think. I just run.
I stumble to the door, wrenching it open and bolting into the hall. I am still in the casino, in the upstairs suite reserved for the VIP guests.
My vision blurs as I race down the corridor, Rafael’s voice echoing behind me. “You can’t run from me Sister Francis. I’ll always find you.”
I dash from the casino, not even stopping to get my belongings, and barefoot make my way through the awakening city. People automatically part to make way for me, some even call out, asking me if I need help.
But I ignore them. I have to get home.
By the time I reach my apartment, I’m gasping for breath. My hands shake as I fumble for the spare key I hide under the mat.
When I finally burst inside, the silence is deafening.
“Betsy?” I call, my voice rising with panic.
No answer.
I dash through the tiny apartment, searching every room, every hiding place, every closet, my heart pounding harder with each step, tears streaming down my face.
Where is she? Where did she go? She knows she’s not allowed to leave the apartment without me.
Yesterday’s argument returns to haunt me like a bad dream. Nonono, she didn’t. She wouldn’t.
“Betsy!” I scream, my voice breaking.
But she’s gone.
Madeleine“Betsy!” I scream as I run from the apartment, my voice echoing down the hallway.The sunlight outside is blinding, but I barely notice. My heart pounds like a drum, and my breath comes in sharp, shallow bursts as I dash out into the shared courtyard, frantically scanning the dilapidated lawn and rusty play area.She’s not here!My mind spins. How could I let this happen? I should have been home two hours ago, in time to get Betsy up and ready for school.Where did she go? What if someone took her?“Betsy!” I call again, my voice cracking.A flicker of movement catches my eye. I spin around and relief floods through me. Clarissa, my neighbour, is walking toward me, holding Betsy’s hand.Betsy skips along at her side, her tiny yellow backpack bouncing with each step. My daughter did what she does every day. She got up, she dressed herself for school, and then she waited for me.Her eyes are bloodshot from all the crying, her little face swollen, and I can see faint bruises on
MadeleineI run as fast as my legs can carry me, not stopping until the school comes into view.I line up with the other parents who are here to pick up their children. I can’t wait to get Betsy out of here. I found a school for her. A good school. With other children who are like her. A place where they will understand and help her.I keep my head down, aware of the whispers behind my back. The parents cluster in small groups, chittering about me. “I wonder what she did this time?” Riana’s mother gossips. “Probably one of her johns,” another mother says. “I hear some men like that kind of thing."“Tsk, tsk, tsk. It’s no wonder that little bastard of hers is so… stunted. Poor kid has no mother to teach her any better. She should have dropped that baby on the church’s steps.”I shove my hands in my coat and curl my fingers into fists.“She’s a mess,” another woman mutters, her voice low but loud enough for me to hear.“Did you see her neck?” another says. “We should really phone the s
RafaelI grip Madeleine’s chin, turning her face in every direction, tallying her injuries. She winces lightly and tries to pull away, but I clamp down harder, forcing her to go in my direction, not hers.She is in terrible shape. Her face is black and blue, blood drips from her nose and split lip. A split lip, bruised cheek, bleeding nose, a ring of bruises around her neck. Their handiwork stands out like fresh tattoos on her porcelain skin. She reaches up and grabs my wrist, her eyes pleading with me to let her go. I pay no attention to her. She’s mine, and she will do as I command.She’s broken. Her whole life has been shattered in less than twenty-four hours. She trusted the people around her to be as good as she is. A fatal mistake in this world. There is no honour among thieves.Anger coils in my chest like a living, breathing snake. They dared to touch my Sister Francis. Marred her perfect skin. Destroyed her innocent soul.They are dead men walking. I will strike when the
RafaelI lead Madeleine from the oppressive, disgusting interrogation room. Delilah, Bruce’s wife, gives me a look of death. “You are going to let her go?” she screeches, her voice threatening to burst my eardrums. “The bitch attacked one of your best employees.”God, I hate that woman. Like Bruce, she thinks she’s special because I put her husband in a position of power. They will learn the hard way that none of them are above me, and all of them are worse than Madeleine.I hand Madeleine over to Enzo, and she rushes to Betsy, who is sitting on a plastic chair, her little feet, dressed in white bobby socks and black shoes, swings back and forth while she devours a doughnut. The kid is fucking adorable.With a word, I turn on Delilah, sparing Lola only a passing glance. She’ll get her turn, but for now I have to wait - she’s pregnant and I have standards.“Stay with Betsy,” I order Madeleine, sure that she won’t, can’t, make a run for it. And even if she does, my men will catch up wi
MadeleineBetsy clings to me as we step out of the police station, her small fingers tightening around my dress like a vice. She is too young to understand this world. She doesn’t know that men like Andoletti don’t grant mercy. They take. They destroy.But there was kindness in him when he cleaned Betsy’s face. He was strict, but not cruel. And unlike me, he never lost his temper.Still… I have to keep her safe. Protect her innocence at all costs. I don’t think Rafael would harm her, not like that, but she doesn’t belong in his world, and I can’t let her get too comfortable in it.Enzo opens the backdoor to a black SUV with tinted windows. This is only for a few days, I tell myself as I load Betsy into the backseat. Just until I can find another job. Then I will take Betsy and we’ll leave, like I promised.I’ve managed to keep her safe for three years. Managed to hide the ugliness of the world I dwelled in. I can keep doing it. I don’t need Rafael. If he’s going to pay my debts, Bets
MadeleineNight is falling by the time we drive through the massive wrought iron gates manned by two, armed guards.I’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for much of the ride. Pain gnaws at my guts and my whole body throbs along to the beat of my heart. I can’t remember the last time I slept or ate. The property is surrounded by high walls, with CCTV cameras monitoring every angle. The sprawling mansion looms overhead, and in the distance I can just make out the glittering lake throwing golden sparks in the setting sun.Enzo steers the car around the circular driveway, and stops right in front of the entrance.Betsy bounces up and looks around with curious eyes. Her energy is boundless. “Is this our new home?” she asks in a clear voice.No. I’m sure I said the word, but either Betsy didn’t hear or I didn’t actually say it aloud.“Yes,” Rafael answers. “Pretty right?”“Why do you have so many men with guns here?”My insides jolt painfully and my throat burns with bile. “Beca
MadeleineI wake at the break of dawn, suppressing a cry as my body calls out in pain. Despite the sinfully soft, comfortable mattress, everything hurts. From my head to my toes. It feels as if I went through a meat grinder and lived to tell the tale.Betsy!I have to find her. We must leave. The sooner, the better. I don’t know where we’ll go or what we’ll do yet, but I’ll figure it out. I always do.I slowly and carefully roll to the edge of the bed and swing my legs over. The bed is so high, that my feet dangle halfway to the floor, and the thought of jumping down terrifies me. But I desperately need to pee, and I have to find Betsy. The sun is rising, and if she can’t find me by the time she wakes up, she’ll go mad. Rafael was patient with her yesterday, but he’ll get sick of her meltdowns - everyone does in the end.‘You can do this Madeleine,’ I say to myself and jump down, groaning as pain rockets up my legs and spine.I inhale sharply and hold on to the bed to steady myself b
RafaelI stare at my swollen, bruised knuckles around Madeleine’s wrist. It was the first time in a while that I actually got my own hands dirty. I did it for her. And the landlord was just the first of many.After I broke his face, he finally told me the truth. It wasn’t Bruce who was behind the whole thing - the cops, their assault, Madeleine’s eviction, the destruction of her treasured memories. It was Delilah. And I let her go. Like a fucking fool. I allowed sentiment to cloud my judgement. I won’t make that mistake again.“You are starting to test my patience, Madeleine,” I grit the words past my teeth. “Then let us go,” she says, lifting her chin defiantly. “I didn’t ask you to bring us here.”If she were anyone else, she’d be over my lap right now, getting the spanking she so richly deserves. “A little gratitude is in order.” I purposefully drop my voice lower. “I saved your life yesterday. I saved your sister. I am giving you a home.”Her shoulders slump. “Yes. You are right
MadeleineBetsy is still peacefully sleeping when we go back to the bedroom. Rafael leans over the bed and picks her up, folding his arms almost protectively around her. Betsy moans softly in her sleep, then turns into Rafael, trustingly resting her head on his shoulder.“No,” I whisper. “What are you doing?”Now that I’m back, I don’t want to let Betsy out of my sight. I kind of trust Rafael with her - he kept her safe when I couldn't - but I want my sister near me. I feel better when she’s close.“If you want me to stick around,” he answers in a hushed voice. “She needs to go to her own bed or we’ll wake her.”My heart tumbles in my chest. I just invited a man into my bedroom. Anything could happen. But the more time I spend with Rafael, the more I can see Dom. He’s hidden by a hardened shell, but I know what is under that exterior.He’s just like me in a way. Shedding one skin for another so he can cope, so he can do his job.At long last, I nod and walk over to the bed to sit down
Rafael Madeleine hesitates for a moment, glancing past me at her bedroom door. “We had an agreement,” I remind her. “If I made it so you could come home-”“No. Yes, I know. It’s just… you want to take me to bed. Betsy’s in my room.”My eyes fall on her lightly trembling hands. Her eyes are dark, uncertain, but she holds her head high, back ruler straight.I take a step in her direction, wrap my hand around her fragile little wrist, while I stare at her beautiful, inviting lips. My heart tumbles in my chest. My knees go weak. My mouth runs dry.God, I want to kiss her.She had that effect on me the first day I met her. I knew then, as I know now, that she possesses a beauty and quiet innocence that needs to be protected at all costs.If only I found her sooner. The casino wouldn’t have touched her delicate soul. But it’s not an indelible stain. We can still wash it out.“What, exactly, do you think I will do to you?” I ask her, keeping my voice quiet, my tone low.“I… well, men take
RafaelI stand with my foot on the first stair, hand on the railing, when my phone starts ringing. The incessant pring-pring-pring echoes off the walls, setting my damn teeth on edge.I reach inside my pocket, and for some reason look up, straight at Madeleine who has a phone to her ear, and is leaning over the barrier, looking down into the foyer.With a grim smile, I glace at the number on the screen, knowing she’s the one using Enzo’s phone. I answer the call regardless. “Yeah?” I keep my eyes on her, unable to see her expression in the gloom, but I can feel her exasperation all the way down here.“Can you come up?” she asks.“You are supposed to be in bed.” I am trying with everything inside me not to laugh. I haven’t laughed in years - not a proper, feel it down in your belly, laugh at any rate.“Something happened,” Madeleine says.The laughter dies as abruptly as it started. “I’ll come up.”She ends the call and disappears from view. I can hear her hushed conversation with Enzo
MadeleineA scuffle at my door wakes me from a dead sleep.Ethel came by a few hours ago with my medicine and a little broth. It can’t be her.I slept for a week, and I’m still tired. As soon as the nurse left, I fell asleep again with Betsy pressed tightly against me.Her warmth and presence does give me comfort. Ethel was right.There it is again.I freeze, my insides turning to water, coldness spreading through my body as my heart rate spikes.Someone’s at the door.I try to tell myself it’s just Ethel, or maybe Marco adjusting his position in the chair, but the sound is wrong. It’s coming from the wrong place.A shadow breaks up the thin strip of light shining in through the closed door, and then it’s gone.For a long time, I lie perfectly still, unable to move, barely even breathing, holding Betsy as tight as I can.Slowly, the terror dribbles from my body, and I can command my limbs again. Still trembling, I gently extract myself from Betsy and swing my legs over the edge of th
MadeleineWith Marco’s help, I somehow manage to make my way up the three flights of stairs, but I’m exhausted and out of breath when we reach the landing. I sit on the top step and cling to the railing, taking in large gulps of air.Just over a week ago, I ran from the casino to my flat without breaking a sweat. Now I can’t even climb a flight of stairs.It’s sad. And humiliating. Marco fafs over me like a mother hen, desperately trying to get me up and into bed without outright overstepping his boundaries by picking me up.“I’m fine, Marco,” I wave him away. “I’m just tired. I’ll get up in a second.”“If you fall down these stairs, the boss will never forgive me,” he says, his voice filled with urgency. “You are my responsibility.”“Tsk,” I click my tongue, but stop myself before I can say anything else.Marco is just doing his job. And he can’t speak badly of Rafael, he’ll be punished for it. The poor man just stands there, wringing his hands and looking terrified, waiting for me
MadeleineRafael stands by the door, his hand on the handle as if he’s fighting the urge to turn around and run away again.He’s back to being Rafael. Every sign of Dom has disappeared. His eyes are strict, face set in an emotionless mask, body coiled tight like a snake getting ready to strike.“I- I can’t go yet,” I voice the obvious. I’m still attached to the drip and the machines.Rafael stares at me for the longest time, as if he’s trying to make a decision about me. Leave me here and run, or stay and risk… something.“What happened?” I ask.“Nothing. Doc said we could take you home.”“No, I mean with you… this week, while I was out.”He gives a nonchalant one-shouldered shrug. “Same old. Business as usual. I got Betsy into a really good private school. She started two days ago.”I should be angry. It’s not his place to make decisions for my sister.But I just don’t have it in me. Not yet.My debt to him is growing bigger by the day. And I know guys like him. He won’t just let it
RafaelI can tell just by looking at Madeleine that she thinks I’ll deny her request to see a priest and take confession, but priests take their vows seriously. I’ve yet to meet one who has broken the sacramental seal.No one knows that I still regularly go to confession myself. The priest is often the only person I can trust, and there are times when I need to unburden myself. I never give penance though—I’m not that much of a hypocrite, and I don’t plan to change any time soon.Unlike my often delusional partners in crime, I know exactly where I’m going when I die, and I don’t care anymore. It's far too late to save my soul.“There is a chapel on the first floor,” I offer, “with a priest in attendance. I’ll arrange for a wheelchair.”Madeleine stares at me - big, blue eyes are filled with guilt and shame.“There’s something… I have to beg you for forgiveness too,” she says softly. “I will do penance, but I don’t think it’s a sin that will be forgiven.”I cock my head at her and fro
MadeleineIt takes me a long, long time to wake up. It’s as if someone stuffed my head full of cotton and magnets are pulling my eyelids shut.I’m vaguely aware of the soft beeping of a machine, and my right hand itches something fierce. Betsy!My eyes fly open, and I stare straight up at a white ceiling.Where am I?Home. I must be home. But my apartment doesn’t have nice, clean ceilings like this.I have to get Betsy to school. It must be late. If she’s late again, they’re going to call me in. This time they might expel her.I groan softly and try to sit up.“Cara?” Rafael’s voice cuts through the confusion, and then I feel his warm hands on my brow. “She’s awake!” he calls out.“Whu-” my throat is dry and scratchy, my lips numb.“You are in the hospital.”“Whu?” I ask again.“Sh-sh. Don’t talk. Wait for the doctor.”“Ha-ppened. Wha- happened?”I look up at his handsome face, but it’s as if I’m trying to pierce through a white veil. He isn’t in focus. I can feel him, though. His han
MadeleineI pace around my room. I’m restless. And I don’t want to be here. Everytime I look at the painting, Jesus stares back at me, telling me that I’m a sinner.On the drive back, I waited and waited and waited for Rafael to scold me, it would have made me feel better, but he turned on Enzo instead. I got out of the car while his lieutenant stepped away for a smoke, and Rafael was furious at Enzo for not even noticing my escape.I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have gone to the police station to get my revenge. There was no reason for it. I just wanted to destroy what was left of Bruce, and I wanted to see Delilah’s face when I tore her whole world to pieces.I was selfish and vindictive, and I knew I’d get away with it because I had Rafael on my side.My eyes fall on the ratty pack stashed in the corner of my room. I didn’t unpack it - unpacking it would mean I’ve made this my home.It's not my home. It can't be home. I've only been here two days, and I already sunk to the