Chapter 6 Chains Of Control

• After receiving a call from his father, Antonio, Tony's mood soured, and he reluctantly continued the interrogation. Without many words, Tony simply signaled Victor to proceed.
• Victor, hesitant but obedient, pressed down on the gunshot wound on Marissa’s bandaged thigh. He pushed hard, causing blood to ooze through the bandages. Yet, Marissa showed no reaction, still unconscious and slumped in her chair, tied up and utterly miserable.
• “Boss?” Victor asked, his voice laced with genuine concern this time. “She’s still not waking up.”
• Tony sighed heavily, frustration and disappointment evident on his face. Begrudgingly, he ordered, “Call a doctor and make sure she stays alive!”
• With a dismissive wave, Tony signaled he’d lost interest in continuing. The girl seemed to have reached her limits, unable to endure more torment.
• Victor, head bowed, responded in a resigned tone, “Yes, boss.” He immediately sought medical assistance, realizing the captive's condition was critical and required immediate intervention to survive.
• ***
• Days dragged on, and Marissa had unknowingly endured three long nights trapped in a dim, suffocating room, without even a single breath of fresh air. The sunlight, usually a symbol of hope and warmth, failed to penetrate the thick walls of her prison.
• The room, lit only by a faint lamp in the center, amplified the sense of gloom and oppression. Her frail body lay weakly on a thin mattress placed directly on the cold floor. She slept curled up, shivering uncontrollably.
• Though they fed her, the food provided was bland and barely edible. Each meal only pushed Marissa further from any desire to survive. In her despair, she even refused to eat, hoping starvation would free her from Tony’s endless torment.
• The room’s heavy atmosphere grew more suffocating with every passing second. The cold walls, silent witnesses to Marissa’s suffering, held echoes of screams and cries. Alone and in pain, Marissa pondered why her life was trapped in a cycle of hopelessness.
• Whenever the door opened, her heart pounded—not with hope, but with fear of further cruelty. No sounds from the outside world reached her, save the occasional whisper of a breeze slipping through the crack beneath the door.
• Marissa shed tears, realizing how distant and unattainable the outside world had become. She could remain trapped here forever. With each weakening breath, she lamented the irony of her fate: free from debt collectors but now viewing death as the only escape from Tony’s relentless torment.
• ***
• “What is it?” Tony asked as Victor entered his office.
• “She still won’t eat, Sir. Even when I ordered the servants to force-feed her, she vomited the food and tried to strangle one of them with what little strength she had,” Victor explained, clearly troubled.
• Tony merely nodded, indifferent to Marissa’s defiance. He had dealt with many cunning individuals before and was determined to break them all, viewing Marissa’s behavior as a desperate attempt to survive and perhaps escape.
• “She still won’t talk about who sent her?”
• “No, Sir. She insists she’s not a spy and that she was just trying to escape debt collectors when she ended up at that building. Here’s the full report on her background,” Victor handed over Marissa ’s file.
• Tony scrutinized the investigation report, his eyes scanning every detail. His hands clasped over the desk as he focused on the data revealed within.
• “No obvious abnormalities. Marissa , 21 years old, law-abiding. No criminal record, no DUIs, and no history of violence. A model student and part-time worker at a 24-hour drugstore,” Victor summarized her background.
• “The only significant issue is her family’s financial troubles, especially her parents’ gambling habits and large debts. It fits the profile of a girl with a tough, suffering life.”
• After Victor finished, Tony gave a slight nod, but Victor still appeared uneasy. “Pardon me, Sir, but I don’t mean to undermine your judgment. However, I don’t believe this girl is a spy sent to destroy you. She doesn’t possess any skills typical of a spy. She’s fainted multiple times during torture—deep, concerning blackouts confirmed by the medical team.”
• “Plus, female assassins sent to kill you usually look sexy and seductive. Marissa …well, she’s pretty, Boss…but she looks plain and innocent. And she was even wearing her work uniform when we captured her. Far from seductive.”
• “She’s just acting innocent,” Tony countered Victor’s assessment.
• But Victor held his ground, “Still, all the data I’ve provided doesn’t point to her being a spy. It’s all easily accessible information. However, her parents are currently missing, leaving Marissa to face massive debts and daily threats from collectors.”
• “Why are you so insistent? Do you have a crush on her?” Tony accused, glaring at Victor with arched brows.
• Victor cleared his throat, realizing he had overstepped. “No, Sir, of course not,” he replied respectfully.
• Tony raised an eyebrow, intrigued by Victor’s analysis. “Remember Kevin? You trusted him too. He was only 17 when the enemy sent him to kill me. They’re starting to send spies with clean profiles and innocent faces—anything that could gain our sympathy and trust.”
• Tony closed Marissa’s file and handed it back to Victor. Victor accepted it thoughtfully, admitting, “You’re right, Boss. I misjudged Kevin, and it nearly got both of us killed.”
• Tony shook his head firmly. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”
• Victor nodded, fully aware of the importance of caution in such situations. He knew Tony’s sharp instincts and never underestimated any scenario. They refocused on carefully planning their next steps, prioritizing the safety of their organization and themselves above all.
• They strategized on how to get Marissa to talk, considering all possible outcomes.
• ***
• Dinner arrived, and Tony sat alone at the dining table, as usual. The room was filled with an uneasy silence, broken only by the soft clinking of utensils as Tony cut his meal.
• Suddenly, an unwelcome voice broke the quiet. “Where’s the girl you’re supposed to marry, Tony? It’s been days. Have you forgotten?” The voice came from the doorway, familiar to Tony since childhood.
• Tony clicked his tongue upon hearing his father, Antonio, reappear uninvited. He restrained himself from shooting the aging figure. Forcing a calm demeanor, Tony looked at his father, who stood at the doorway.
• “Dad,” he greeted, his expression unreadable.
• Antonio, adopting a casual yet inappropriate attitude, stepped into the room. “Don’t look so surprised, Tony. I just wanted to make sure you haven’t forgotten the promise you made to me.”
• Tony took a deep breath before responding, “I don’t recall making any promises, Dad.”
• They sat across from each other at the table, father and son, in an atmosphere tense yet controlled. Tony gazed at his father with barely concealed hatred but maintained enough composure to avoid an outburst.
• “Of course, not a promise, Tony, a threat! Get married, or I’ll arrange it myself. I don’t need your consent to make you do what I want,” Antonio said casually, though his tone carried a clear threat.
• Tony’s disgust grew, and his desire to end all conversation became overwhelming. “Stop talking about it, Dad!” he nearly shouted, struggling to contain his rage. He even imagined killing his father then and there, just to shut him up.
• Antonio, hearing this, glared at his son, his expression turning angry. “Hey! Mind your manners! How dare you talk to me like that?”
• “What, is your pretty face really that useless that you can’t find a single woman to show me?” Antonio mocked, ignoring Tony’s fury to throw a jab.
• Tony clenched his fists, eyes burning with a mix of contempt and unspoken defiance as the two faced off in yet another clash of wills, each unwilling to give an inch in their constant battle of power and pride.