Giselle ran out of the narrow hallway, her heart still racing.
"I have to get away. I want nothing to do with that devil!" she muttered. "No wonder he asked me if I wasn't afraid of dying." Giselle shuddered in horror as she recalled the man’s words.
Leon Morano De Santos—
the most feared Mafia king in the city. A name that silenced many—even the authorities chose to turn a blind eye.
Giselle dared not look back, though the man hadn't had a clear view of her face.
Meanwhile, in the same narrow corridor, Leon was still leaning against the wall. His face was pale, but his eyes were narrowed sharply.
"Jo..." he muttered.
"Yes, Mr. Leon," replied a man in a black suit. "I'm here."
"Who was that girl?" Leon asked softly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Did you see her face?"
Johan, the assistant, shook his head quickly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Leon. I didn’t get a clear look. The lighting was too dim. She ran off as soon as she heard my voice."
Leon groaned in frustration. "That girl saved me when I was dying. She's foolish—but very brave."
"Then, will you look for her?" Johan asked.
"Yes, Jo. I’m curious." Leon turned slowly. "Find out who that girl is."
"Alright, Mr. Leon."
A week later
Giselle sat in the corner of her small apartment. Though modest, she was grateful she still had enough savings to rent it.
While sipping instant noodles, her eyes were fixed on a flyer posted near the minimarket.
Seeking Elderly Caregiver!
High salary! Accommodation provided.
Contact immediately at (XXX)
Address: XXXX
"Hmm… the salary’s pretty good. It could help me get by," Giselle muttered. "I should give it a try—even if I have to take care of an old woman."
She decided to go the next morning, according to the schedule listed.
On the other side of the city, inside a grand house, Leon sat in his study, swirling a glass of whiskey.
"Leon, are you listening to me?" a middle-aged woman's voice broke the silence.
"Yes, Leon is listening, Mom—but I'm not interested," he replied flatly.
Mrs. Hansel—the stubborn middle-aged woman—snorted softly. "You're 32 years old, Leon. When are you going to get married? It’s about time you had two children."
"Marry?" Leon laughed shortly. "For what? Love is nonsense. Women only know how to destroy men's feelings. Children? I can adopt from an orphanage."
"Adopt? No, no. I don't agree. It's been ten years, Leon, and you're still holding a grudge against women? If you keep this up, what will your future be like? You need to get married. You need to have children. If you don’t have any descendants, who will inherit all your wealth?"
Leon glared at his mother. "Mom, please. Don’t force me to fall in love again—especially not to marry. Love makes me weak. And I hate being weak. Don’t ever bring this up again."
Mrs. Hansel stared deeply at her son, then stood up. "Alright. But you can’t keep running away, Leon. Whether you like it or not, you will marry. There doesn’t have to be love in the marriage. I’ve already found the bride."
Though in truth, Mrs. Hansel hadn’t yet found a woman willing to marry Leon.
It was extremely difficult to find someone willing to cooperate. After all, most women were already terrified. Leon was infamous as the cruelest and most terrifying man.
"I’d rather die than fall in love with a woman again," Leon thought to himself.
***
That morning, Giselle wore a simple white shirt and black pants. Her hair was tied back casually. She stood in front of a large colonial-style building on X Street—the address listed on the flyer.
“Is this the house?” she muttered softly. “It’s really luxurious. Well, it makes sense, considering the pay is ridiculous.”
At the gate, several other women had already arrived. They all looked neat and beautiful. Giselle even felt a bit self-conscious, noticing their more luxurious outfits and shoes.
A few minutes later, a man in a black suit emerged from the door.
“I’m sorry, but since the age requirement is 19 to 25 years old, anyone older than that must leave.”
Giselle was stunned—why such a strict age requirement?
She and four other women were allowed to enter. Only five of them met the age criteria.
They walked through a long corridor with thick maroon carpets, high ceilings, and classical paintings on the walls. Giselle swallowed hard. This place felt far too luxurious for someone simply looking for a caregiver.
They were asked to sit in a large living room. Soon, the door opened.
An elegant woman entered, wearing a dark blue dress, expensive jewelry, and an air of dominance that made all the girls immediately lower their heads.
“That... that’s Mrs. Hansel,” one of the women whispered into Giselle’s ear. “The mother of Mr. Leon De Santos.”
Giselle froze. Her eyes widened. “Huh?!”
“Good morning,” Mrs. Hansel said in a calm yet firm voice. “You all came here because of the elderly caregiver flyer, correct?”
The five girls nodded in unison.
“Good.” Mrs. Hansel walked slowly, inspecting each of their faces. “I don’t like small talk. You were selected because of your age.”
Giselle furrowed her brow.
“Your ages are between 19 and 25. That’s the main requirement,” she continued.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Hansel... but isn’t this for caring for an elderly woman?” one of the girls asked hesitantly.
Mrs. Hansel gave a thin smile. “Actually, no. You won’t be caring for the elderly.”
The room fell silent.
“What do you mean, Mrs. Hansel?”
Giselle clutched the hem of her shirt. She began to feel uneasy.
“I’m looking for a bride for my son,” Mrs. Hansel finally said. “And you are all being considered.”
“What?!”
“I will pay very well. Whoever is chosen will live in luxury and lack for nothing,” Mrs. Hansel explained casually. “Of course, there will be a contract. The marriage will be only on paper.”
Giselle bowed her head even lower. Her hands trembled.
Mrs. Hansel smiled. “I need a woman who is not only beautiful but also brave. Are you ready?”
One by one, the girls began to stand up.
“I’m sorry, I... I can’t,” said the first.
“Me neither. This is too much,” said the second.
One of the women stood and looked at Giselle. “Are you coming or not?”
Giselle bit her lip. She wanted to stand. She wanted to leave. But for some reason, her body refused to move.
“Feel free to leave if you can’t handle it. The exit is behind you,” Mrs. Hansel said flatly.
Only Giselle remained seated. She was the only one who hadn’t spoken.
Mrs. Hansel turned to her. “You. Why are you silent?”
Giselle slowly looked up.
“Are you willing?”
Giselle remained frozen, wondering in her heart, "Is this... an opportunity?"
To be continued...