"I've read their files! Their sexual preferences, their requirements, how they treat the women they own. And there's another man, a broker, who bids on women for his clients all across the globe. Do you understand what I'm telling you? They buy women like we're a fine piece of art. If you don't pay, I will belong to one of these men. I’ll be owned like property."
Another pause, longer this time. When Lorenzo speaks again, his voice is strained. "Camilla, I... this is complicated. You need to talk to my father about this. He's handling everything. I don't know the details."
"What do you mean, talk to your father? You're my fiancé! Or you were supposed to be. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"Of course it means something. But six million euros is a lot of money. These are business matters. Papa makes these decisions. I don’t have control of the money."
"I'm more than a business matter!" I'm shaking now. "Lorenzo, I'm going to be sold to a man who will keep me as a slave. Who will hurt me whenever he wants. Who might kill me. And you're calling it a business matter? What the fuck is wrong with you? All of you!"
"That's not what I meant. I just... look, I've been talking to Papa about this every day. He's working on it. But I can't just write a check for six million euros. That's not how our finances work."
"Then how do they work? Because from where I'm sitting, it seems like you've known for days that I've been taken, and you haven't even asked to speak to me until now."
"Vitiello wouldn't allow it! I told you, he controlled all the communication."
"Did you try? Did you demand to speak to me? Did you insist on knowing if I was hurt, if I was scared, if I was alive? Did you demand proof of life?"
The silence stretches.
"I thought Papa was handling it," he finally says, and there's something almost defensive in his tone. "He said it was better not to complicate the negotiations with emotional appeals. That Vitiello was a businessman who would respond to business terms, not sentiment."
"And you just accepted that? You didn't fight for me?"
"Camilla, please. This isn't fair. I'm trying to help, but I have to go through the proper channels. Talk to my father. Make him understand what you just told me. Maybe if he hears it directly from you..." He trails off. "I have to go. I'm sorry. I really am."
"Lorenzo, wait—"
But the line is already dead.
I stare at the phone, my hands trembling. He sounded guilty. Uncomfortable. Like I'd caught him in something shameful. But he didn't sound like a man fighting to save the woman he was supposed to marry.
He sounded like a man trying to avoid an inconvenient conversation.
Renato takes the phone from my shaking hands, his expression unreadable.
"Ready for the next call?" He pulls up another contact, and I see my father's name. "Let's see if blood is thicker than money."
The phone rings longer this time. When my father answers, his voice is thick with emotion.
"Yes?"
"Papa, it's me."
"Camilla! Are you hurt? Has he hurt you?"
The concern in his voice nearly breaks me. This is different from Lorenzo's careful distance. This is real.
"I'm not hurt. Not yet. But Papa, I need you to listen. The man who took me, Renato Vitiello—"
"I know who he is. That bastard Alessandro got us into this mess with his debts."
"Papa, please. Listen. He's going to sell me if you and Alessandro don't pay the six million euros owed to him. There are buyers for me. Real men who purchase women like... like property."
"Camilla, no." His voice drops to a whisper. "This can't be happening. He wouldn't really do that. Not with your fine breeding and family reputation."
"That's exactly why I'm in hot demand! It is happening. I've seen their files. There's a Saudi who keeps women locked away foryears. A Russian who broke his last woman's bones." My voice cracks. "Papa, if you don't pay, I'll belong to one of them. They'll do whatever they want to me. However they want to hurt me or use me."
"Stop. Stop, please." He's crying now. I can hear it. "Camilla, if I had the money, you know I would pay it in a heartbeat. You're my daughter. My little girl."
