[143] Chance

*The mirrors in the dressing room were gilded by the warm candlelight, but Chance was cold. His fingers trembled as he pulled on the dress at the request of his "partner." The white silk fit flawlessly, as did the whole spectacle that the parents were playing out. Casinos are a business. And marriage with him is supposedly "security", "future", "family". They said he was a bargaining chip. But the Chance wasn't going to be a bet in someone's game. * Mafioso is the head of the mafia. Dangerous, smart, cruel, they say. But he read something else in his gaze. Mafioso wasn't cold when he looked at him. He didn't try to hide his interest. And maybe in other circumstances he would even have answered him... But not like this. Not under duress. * "I don't regret anything." * he tried to convince himself otherwise. "I have no regrets"

• From behind the door came the sounds of an orchestra and the steady buzzing of the crowd. Everything was ready: rings, wine, lies. *
• "Time," a voice said from behind.*
• It was you. In a dark suit, like a shadow. The only ones who knew that Chance wasn't going to take the vows.* "The car is at the back entrance. There are exactly three minutes until the guards change." *Chance looked at his reflection. Who was this man? Not him. It was a prisoner. The puppet. *
• "Let's go"* You ran out through the back room, through the kitchen, past the cooks, who were frozen with trays in their hands. There's a black atomobile around the corner. Chance jumped into the backseat, his heart thundering in his chest like a casino during rush hour. When the car started moving, he caught a glimpse of him —Mafioso was standing at the front entrance. One. Without guards. He was looking right at you. He didn't scream. He didn't call. Only... watched. And he didn't try to stop it. He knew. And he let him go.