"Great, now my floor is wet with your blood," Alexander scoffed, his amusement evident in his voice. Each step up the stairs made Anthony shiver, as the black stains of blood marred the wooden floors, creaking under their weight. As they ascended from the basement, the flickering light on a nearby wall forced Anthony to squint and adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness. He noticed the caramel-colored wallpaper lining the walls, framing the expansive mansion. Anthony leaned in, catching glimpses of other doors and rooms, realizing the sheer size of the place. His gaze was drawn to a magnificent chandelier, adorned with sparkling crystal lights that tinkled softly. Faint footsteps echoed in the distance, and the cold touch of a gun pressed against the back of Anthony's head.
"Now, isn't this a nice place I've brought you to?" Alexander asked, a hint of pride in his voice, relishing in Anthony's suffering. He taunted Anthony, reminding him of the hard work he had put into reaching this position. Anthony trembled, his voice filled with fear as he spoke. Alexander shook his head in amusement, reveling in Anthony's misery and enjoying the control he had over him. He had always wanted to be the architect of Anthony's downfall, and though he wasn't completely satisfied, he relished in the power he held.
For a moment, Anthony thought he could regain his balance and find his footing, but Alexander pushed him, causing him to stumble and struggle to maintain his equilibrium. Groaning in pain, blood still trickling from his broken nose, Anthony followed Alexander's command to keep moving, the bitter tone in his voice and the smug look on his face further fueling Anthony's fear. Their journey led them toward the kitchen, the trail of blood marking their path from the basement.
Anthony's body trembled, a chill running down his spine, causing him to shudder involuntarily. As he struggled to catch his breath, his broken and crooked nose throbbed with pain. He pressed his hands against the corners of the kitchen wall curtains, feeling the worn fabric against his fingertips. The scent of the curtains mixed with the odor emanating from his feet, making him feel as though he was standing on slippery ice, desperately trying to keep his balance and prevent himself from collapsing once again.
Each grunt that escaped his lips grew louder, strained from the effort of standing upright. He took deep, shaky breaths, trying to steady himself. Meanwhile, Alexander stood nearby, laughing and pushing Anthony aside with the gun, the cold metal pressing against the back of Anthony's spine.
"I've got a present for you," Alexander said, a smile playing on his lips. Anthony's ears picked up the sound of footsteps approaching, causing him to gasp in fear. Mafia associates emerged from the woodwork, wearing sunglasses and exuding a sense of strength in their black suits and ties. They surrounded Anthony in a straight line, their hands clenched tightly at their stomachs.
"That doesn't look like a gift," Anthony managed to say, his voice filled with alarm.
"Not that," Alexander replied with sarcasm. "In the kitchen." He motioned for Anthony to walk inside, lifting up the blue curtain.