CHAPTER 1
In the darkness of the night, Julius sped along the deserted, tarred road that led to his residence. As he approached, the automatic smart gate recognized his car and opened, allowing him access to the compound. He halted before the main entrance of the mansion, where several of his men, all clad in black, awaited his arrival. With a slight smirk on his lips, he waved his hand to dismiss them.
"Leave the car as it is," he commanded, before striding through a dark hallway leading to the magnificent sitting room of the mansion. In the room stood a one-eyed man named Rufus, who stood rigidly like a statue and bowed upon Julius's entrance.
"Are those the sharpest?" Julius inquired, glancing at a flat box that Rufus held.
"Yes, sir," Rufus replied.
"Good, come with me," Julius ordered, and together they made their way to a door situated at the far end of the parlor. The door led into the basement of the mansion, a vast and empty space. They approached a section of the wall to open a hidden door that appeared to blend seamlessly with the surrounding area. Descending the stairs, they journeyed to the deepest part of the underground basement.
Inside, a man was bound to a rusted chair, with a matching table positioned before him. Sweat trickled down the man's disfigured face, and blood continued to drip from injuries he had sustained from brutal whip lashes. He sat there, trembling, his gaze fixed on the bare walls illuminated only by a single hanging bulb. The tension mounted as the door creaked open, revealing his worst nightmare.
Julius entered the room, his earlier smirk replaced by a serious demeanor. He placed the box Rufus had carried onto the rusted table with a resounding thud, intensifying the terror etched on the man's face. Julius's presence was suffocating, and every heartbeat resonated with fear as he bore witness to the impending doom. The atmosphere was thick with menace, and the anticipation of what was to come loomed like a storm cloud overhead.
In that chilling moment, the man, bound and at the mercy of his captor, could only imagine the fate that awaited him—a fate orchestrated by the icy control of Julius and reinforced by the silent authority of Rufus. Their descent into darkness was not just literal but also figurative, signaling a deeper plunge into the sinister world that governed their lives, where mercy was a hollow notion and power was wielded like a weapon.
"I… sir…" The man struggled to articulate, his voice hoarse from excessive crying and screaming. Julius opened the flat box containing various knives, eyeing the terrified captive as he asked, "How would you like your fingers, sliced or crushed?" He selected a cleaver, approaching menacingly. However, his concentration was interrupted by a series of beeps from his phone. Annoyed but curious, he checked the messages from his grandmother, his irritation melting into a chilling smile directed at the man. "Consider yourself lucky to pass yet another night," he remarked, returning the cleaver to its place. Turning to Rufus, he instructed, "You can take a break now; he should be wise enough to speak soon." Satisfied, Julius left the scene to freshen up before heading to the Jones residence—his family home.
*****
Meanwhile, not far away, Judith stood absent-mindedly outside a grand building, the fashion institution where she had applied for a fashion pageant. With a big brown envelope in hand, she glanced longingly at her car parked across the narrow road, reluctant to head home. The truth weighed heavily on her: soon, she would likely be homeless. Her father, Robert Wilson, had made living in the Wilson residence unbearable. For reasons unknown to her, he had arranged her marriage to Charles Bleiz, a notoriously ruthless man, dismissing her opinion entirely. To compound her distress, her stepmother ensured that her remaining days at home were spent in misery. The only solace Judith found was in the memory of her biological mother, Elizabeth Wilson, who was a beacon of hope amidst her turmoil.
Judy found herself in a dire situation, facing threats from her father that left her feeling cornered. With limited options presented to her—either marry Charles Bleiz or risk disownment—Judy's sheltered upbringing made the thought of homelessness unthinkable. Her last hope lay in the upcoming fashion pageant, where she was determined to give her all for a chance at a new beginning.
Exhausted and mentally preoccupied, Judy's thoughts turned to rest as she made her way to her car, knowing tomorrow would bring her before the judges. This critical moment would shape her future and determine how far she could advance in the competition. However, lost in her reflections, she failed to notice a vehicle speeding toward her.
Suddenly, the screeching of tires interrupted her contemplation, jolting her back to reality. Dazed and shocked, she found herself frozen in place, staring at the blinding lights of the approaching car, unable to see beyond them.
Behind the wheel, Julius was taken aback when he nearly struck the seemingly oblivious woman standing in the middle of the road. Although known for his ruthless demeanor, he held a personal principle against causing harm to innocent individuals. Frustrated, he pondered why anyone would position themselves so dangerously. To alert the blonde-haired woman, he honked his horn, hoping to prompt her to move, but she appeared unresponsive, lost in her trance.
As he honked repeatedly, the piercing sound shattered the quietness of the night, yet she remained unmoved. He had more pressing matters than dealing with an accident, especially with a grandmother eagerly awaiting his return home. Eventually losing his patience, Julius exited his vehicle to physically move her to safety.