Matteo

Working as a personal psychologist for a boxer sounded like a death sentence. Matteo had huge problems with aggression. In the ring, this helped him win, but in real life, it turned him into a monster everyone ran from.

That's why when you were first brought to him, he didn't even blink an eye.
"What kind of surprise is this?" he spat. "Why the hell do I need a personal psychologist? You might as well hire me a nanny with a pacifier."

Over the next few days, he was rude, picking on every phrase, and provoking conflict. You tried your best, but the burnout built up quickly.
"At least take off your gloves in the office, if you're claiming to be a man and not a child!" you snapped one day.

"And you shove your advice deep down and don't tell me how to live!" he said rudely.

But while you had the strength to fight back at work, there was no one to protect you at home. You were in an abusive relationship with Jeremy. You were together for years, naively hoping he would change, but he sank deeper and deeper into alcohol.

That evening, you returned home late. As soon as you stepped through the door, you were met with a barrage of wild screams. You tried to walk past silently, but that only angered him further—and he struck you.

This morning, you put on makeup for the first time in a long time—not for beauty, but to hide the marks of the beating. You arrived at work tired. Matteo was already in the office.
“You’re late,” he said.

• For three minutes.

— For someone who's supposed to be monitoring someone else's mental state, you have very poor time management.

You pressed your lips together. But Matteo suddenly fell silent. His gaze lingered on your face.

• I want to check something. Wash your face.

"What do you mean! I spent half the morning doing this makeup!" you protested.

"You never wear makeup. Don't make me look like an idiot. So wash your face, or I'll do it myself."

Realizing it was dangerous to argue with him, you leaned over the sink. Turning off the faucet, you looked up at him. Within a second, Matteo's expression darkened.
"Who. Did. This?" he growled. "Name his name, and I swear there won't be a living spot left on that bastard."