Chantelle returned home. Her small apartment, modest but warm, enveloped her like a reassuring cocoon. The walls, painted in soft tones, bore the imprint of her personality: small frames, a few plants, books piled on a cheap bookshelf. Nothing luxurious, but everything had a soul. Unlike her father's house, cold and imposing, here she felt at home. Safe. At peace.She removed her shoes, sighed deeply, then let herself fall onto the sofa. She had barely placed her phone on the coffee table when a notification appeared on the screen. A message, unsigned. As always."Tonight, 11 PM."She frowned. This was unusual. The man who bought her in the shadows was never in a hurry. He contacted her at spaced intervals, as if he wanted to maintain a cold, methodical distance. But tonight, he was calling her again, barely two days after their last encounter.Something was wrong, but she went anyway.At 10:50 PM, she left her apartment, like an automaton, movements precise, breath short, thoughts st
Huling Na-update : 2026-03-05
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