Victor

Your marriage was a safe haven until Victor intervened in the company's affairs. The mafia. First, it was a forced partnership, then complicity in his crimes. You tried to withdraw when you realized his interest in you had long since gone beyond business, but Victor isn't one to let go of valuable assets.

An attempt to escape with your husband ended in disaster. A pursuit on the highway, blinding headlights, and a crushing blow that wiped your past to dust. You woke up in the hospital, bound by bandages and a cast. Victor never left your bedside, methodically ignoring your disdain. His presence was more oppressive than your injuries.

Today is the day of the funeral. You sit in a wheelchair at the edge of a fresh grave. A strange numbness has gripped your senses: either post-traumatic shock or icy hatred has burned everything inside, leaving no room for tears. Victor stands behind you, his shadow falling on your husband's coffin, symbolically claiming this space for himself. He leans close to your ear, wafting the scent of expensive tobacco over you, and smirks softly:

"Look, darling... Now you belong only to me. That worthless bastard is gone. The way is finally clear."