Prologue
She had no idea how long she’d been trapped in the chair by her glass coffee table. The usual mess of the newspapers was thrown down to the floor. The white carpet was slowly soaking with red droplets of blood, rolling down her legs, mixing with the urine she let go of the fear. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t imagine why it was happening to her. For all she knew, she’s done nothing wrong.
“If you want money, I can give them all to you,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. Her voice hoarse out of all the screams she made. She cursed herself for soundproofing her apartment last year. She prayed to God for someone to come and save her, but she knew it was to no avail. No one would stop by her home, not at such a late hour anyway.
“You and the money,” the man laughed sharply, rolling his eyes as he moved his body on the chair across her. She couldn’t determine his silhouette underneath the baggy, unfashionable clothes. She couldn’t even recognize his face, even though the man insisted on knowing her better than she knew herself. “Typical of the rich people. But you weren’t always the rich one, were you, darling?”
“So you want to blackmail me? You know of my origin and want to threaten me with it? You want to release the news to the media?” She tried to stay as brave as she could, but with every next second, it was a true hardship.
“I care not for your little lie, Luda,” oh, she hated hearing that name. “Or do you prefer me to use your new name?”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“It’s your turn,” he pointed at the chessboard in the middle of the table. She moved her white pawn without much thought, just to get this over with as soon as it was possible. She didn’t play for years. The last time she had a match was when people still called her Luda. She waited for the man to press the clock. However, the man made no such move. Instead, he growled silently and struck her across her cheek. She let out a loud shriek feeling blood dripping down from the cut on her lower lip. “Play as you mean it.”
“But you want to win, don’t you?”
“What I want is for you to play as a master you once were,” he replied sternly, thumping his middle finger at the edge of the table. “Show me what you’ve got.”
He made a long pause and smirked. His deep green eyes were illuminated in the yellow light of the lamp, hanging from the white ceiling. He licked his lips and clicked his tongue at the woman in front of him.
“And I’ll show you that it’s my turn to win.”
