The Slave of Pleasure
Chapter 132

Rachel

Nancy entered the room with a worried expression, holding a tray with a glass of water and some small pills. Before she could say anything, I held up my hand in refusal. "Rachel, you need to rest. This sedative is the best thing for you right now," she said, approaching the bed.

"No, Nancy. What I need is strong coffee, not a sedative. I need to think clearly, not be blacked out," I replied, crossing my arms in an attempt to reaffirm my decision.

Nancy sighed deeply, placing the tray on the bedside table. "Rachel, you passed out last night. You're dealing with an intense situation. Forcing yourself to continue could make you pass out again.'

"I know the risks, Nancy, but I can't just lie here without knowing how this story will end. I'm going to the prison to see Vincenzo. I need to talk to him, look him in the eye, and understand what's really going on."

Nancy seemed to fight her own urge to stop me. Finally, she relented. "If that's the case, at least let me accompany you. You shouldn't have to do this alone." I nodded. Minutes later, we were in the car, driving to the prison. The drive was silent, except for the sound of the engine and the soft drumming of Nancy's fingers against the steering wheel. She was tense, but no more so than I was. My thoughts were racing, trying to anticipate what I would replace when I arrived. When we arrived, we were greeted by guards who immediately recognized us. One of them, a burly man with a stern look in his eyes, approached. "Do you want to visit Vincenzo?" he asked, sizing me up. "Yes," I said firmly. "I need to talk to him." He hesitated for a moment. "Are you sure you're up to it after last night?" "I am. I can handle it," I said, trying to sound more confident than I actually felt. The guard studied my face for a few seconds before finally nodding. As I walked through the prison gates, I felt the weight of my circumstances bearing down on me with an almost crushing intensity. The air there was cold and oppressive, permeated with a mixture of metal, concrete, and a faintly chemical smell that made my stomach churn. Every step I took through the long, narrow hallways seemed to echo louder than it should, as if the building itself were witnessing my presence.

I was nervous. More than nervous, I was restless, almost on the verge of losing control of my own emotions. It was as if all the chaos of the last few hours had been condensed into a single moment, into a single walk, and every breath I took was filled with anticipation and fear. Vincenzo was there, just a few feet in front of me, separated by walls and bars, and I didn't know what it would be like to see him again.

My heart was beating fast, a mix of anxiety and relief. Despite everything, he was alive. We were alive. That thought should have comforted me, but instead, it brought more questions and doubts. What would our reunion be like? What would he say? What would I say? I couldn't shake the feeling that this was all a test, a final exam for something I could barely define. The fluorescent lights illuminated the way with cruel clarity, highlighting every crack in the walls and every step I took. I looked around, trying to replace something to anchor my thoughts, but all I could see were the hardened expressions of the guards and the fleeting glances of the few inmates I could see in the distance. It was a strange, impersonal world, so far removed from the life I knew, but now it was part of our reality. As I approached the room where he was, my feet felt heavier. At the same time, there was a fire of determination inside me that drove me forward. No matter how uncomfortable or scary this place was, I had to see him. I had to tell him that everything would be okay, even if I didn't fully believe it myself yet. When I finally reached the door, I paused for a moment. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions that consumed me. Fear, hope, love, all of it seemed to blend together into something so confusing and powerful that I could barely identify which was stronger. The sound of my heart was deafening, but at the same time, an inner voice told me that I needed to be strong.

I placed my hand on the doorknob, feeling the cool metal against my fingers. I didn't know what awaited me on the other side, but I knew I was about to face it. Vincenzo was there, and somehow, that was all that mattered.

He led us down a narrow, fluorescent-lit hallway. The sound of our footsteps echoed, filling the awkward silence.

Before we entered the visiting room, the guard stopped and turned to Nancy. "She needs to wait outside. Only Rachel is allowed in."

Nancy looked at me with concern, but eventually nodded. "I'll be here if you need me," she said, squeezing my hand briefly before I walked on.

The guard turned to me again. "I need to warn you: this room is monitored. Everything you say or do will be recorded."

I nodded. "Understood."

He opened the door for me to enter. The room was simple, with white walls, a metal table, and two chairs. On the other side, another door opened, and Vincenzo appeared. He was handcuffed, but his presence was still imposing. When our eyes met, I felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over me. Vincenzo walked in and sat in the chair opposite mine. The guard remained outside, but I knew he was watching. The silence between us was almost deafening, but I finally summoned the courage to speak.

"Vincenzo..." I began, but my voice cracked. I took a deep breath and tried again. "I needed to see you."

He watched me with intense eyes, but said nothing. His silence was heavier than any words he could have uttered.

"What happened yesterday...it was too much," I continued, trying to fill the void between us. "But I need to understand. I need to hear it from you."

Vincenzo finally spoke, his voice low and husky. "Rachel, some things are better left in the past."

"I can't accept that," I replied, leaning forward slightly. "Not after what Veronica revealed. There's a truth here that can't be ignored. Do you really have a child with her?"

He closed his eyes, as if my question were a physical blow. When he opened them again, I saw pain in them. "I don't know," he admitted. "If that's true, Veronica never told me anything. She never gave me the chance to know."

His words hit me hard. I didn't know what was more devastating: the possibility that he had a child or the fact that he might never have known. The silence between us returned, but this time, it was filled with mutual understanding and shared pain.

Before I could say anything else, the door opened again, and the guard announced that our time was up. Vincenzo was led away, and I sat there, trying to process everything that had happened. When I finally came out, Nancy was there, waiting for me. She helped me walk to the car, and the whole way back, neither of us said a word. We both knew that the real battle was just beginning.