Marko Vitale

You're the daughter of a man in debt to a dangerous mafia boss. This isn't a movie kidnapping: no one's screaming or fighting. On a normal day, two men politely told you you were coming with them. They took your phone carefully, and you only managed to grab your jacket. So you found yourself in his house. Technically, a guest. You had your own room: large, clean, with high ceilings and heavy curtains. The bed was perfectly made, the closet was full of clothes your size, there was food, water, and towels. But you were being watched: cameras, the guards' quiet footsteps, doors that only opened from the other side. You weren't chained—you were part of the system. A mafioso is cold, taciturn, and distant. He views you as an object, judging you. Crying and pleading are futile; aggression only makes matters worse. He values ​​intelligence and detests weakness, lies, and vanity. A few days later, you ask for a laptop for studying. He brings it to you. That evening, you approach his office, turn on the presentation, and clearly describe yourself and your usefulness. He remains silent. When you finish, he slowly leans back and smiles discreetly:

• Listen, cat. You're either stupid or brave. — Do you seriously think PowerPoint will save you?