"This is not the woman I was expecting!" Lison exclaimed in his native language.

The two men who had brought the girl looked at each other in confusion.

"But she's the woman we saw leaving the restaurant," one of them replied.

"Elena Musso is a mature woman with prominent hips, dark hair, and average height," Lison pointed at Libia with his index finger. "But this one is a worthless brat, short, without curves, with brown hair and brown eyes."

Libia didn’t understand half of what they were saying, which made her even more scared.

Lison's subordinates apologized. He then approached where Libia was lying.

"Why did you make me think you were Elena Musso?" he demanded, his thick accent evident.

"I didn’t…"

"Yes, the email was addressed to your aunt, and you responded in her place. You’re a little idiot."

Libia shook her head, unable to meet his gaze.

"That might cost you your life," Lison threatened, then stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Libia hugged herself as the two men who had brought her there shook their heads. After a few more minutes, they also left the room.

Tiodor was more than furious; for a moment, he thought he would finally carry out his revenge. He had spent the entire morning imagining how he would torture Elena Musso. His desire to make her pay for every suffering inflicted on Jami Jones had gone down the drain because some stupid girl was playing at being an adult.

"What’s wrong? I assumed you’d be busy," Sarah entered Lison's office and found him sitting at his desk. Seeing the mood he was in, she guessed that things hadn’t gone as he had planned.

"A damn brat got in my way."

Sarah didn’t understand what she had just heard.

Lison turned his gaze to the pale-skinned woman, and seeing the confusion on her face, he explained that Libia Musso had impersonated her despicable aunt.

"I won’t get another opportunity like this ever again," the man muttered.

Elena knew very well not to set foot in Brazil. It had seemed almost surreal when she responded to his email saying she would be there as soon as possible to finalize the deal.

"Damn it!" He furrowed his brow in frustration.

"Why not use this to your advantage?" Sarah suggested.

Lison looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"What use could I possibly have for a spoiled idiot?"

"You know, Tiodor," Sarah said, closing the distance between the entrance and the desk, "you’re a very attractive man. I’m sure that if you sweet-talk her, that little brat will tremble like a leaf."

"Don’t be ridiculous," he growled.

"Come on, after all, she’s the legitimate heir. You could get to Elena more easily and end up owning Musso's company. I don’t think that little woman would be hard to win over," the redhead explained.

"Get out," Lison ordered.

Sarah rolled her eyes and complied.

Tiodor considered it for a moment. On second thought, Sarah's plan wasn’t so crazy. He had heard about Libia—a girl starved for love and attention, involved in several scandals as the ex-girlfriend of Julio Dorantes, a man who was even ten years older than him.

"She’s an idiot," he said out loud.

He didn’t know if it would be easy to fake attraction to a girl like her. He wasn’t into skinny, bland girls, much less those who tried to fill their existential voids with relationships. But to get his revenge, he’d be willing to do that and much more.

…

Libia was still lying on the cold floor of the room.

She no longer held out hope of being freed. That man could kill her, torture her, or keep her locked up until the end of her days, and no one would do anything. So, the young woman began to resign herself to her fate.

The next day, someone entered the room and brought her food. Libia devoured it. The sunlight brightened the room, and she realized that the place wasn’t a dungeon but rather an empty room. They had given her food, so things weren’t so bad.

As night began to fall, Libia curled up in the corner of the room. The mental exhaustion took its toll, and she fell asleep.

The next morning, she woke up with the horrible sensation of being watched. Once she regained her senses, she saw Tiodor Lison observing her. Her body trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. Surely, the man had come to end this once and for all.

"Get up from the floor, Libia," Tiodor ordered.

The young woman obeyed without protest.

"You deceived me. What do you think I should do with you?"

She didn’t respond. Her tear-streaked face said it all.

"I’m sorry," she whimpered. "I didn’t mean to. Please, don’t kill me!"

"Shhh." He placed his index finger on the young woman’s lips. "I don’t want you to say anything. Wipe those tears from your eyes."

Libia wiped them with her forearm.

Tiodor walked over to stand in front of her and knelt on one knee, trying to be at her level. He reached out and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb.

Libia trembled with fear. She couldn’t even form words.

"Relax," he whispered. "You’re safe."

Tiodor got up from the floor and extended his hand to her.

The girl wasn’t sure if she should accept help from her captor, but she didn’t have many options.

"I’ll give you a tour of the place," he said emotionlessly, opening the door and motioning for her to follow him.

Libia was surprised to see that the place they had brought her to was a house, and a rather ostentatious one at that. From the intense blue walls to the decor, everything screamed “expensive.”

"That’s the living room," Lison said.

"Sir, I…" Libia hesitated. Panic seized her, but she needed answers. "Can I go home?"

"Let’s just say you’ll be staying here for a long while," he replied, turning his back on her.