INT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE – NIGHT
As soon as Tessa walked out, the room sank into a chilling silence. Maria sat tied tightly to a metal chair, her limbs bruised and face smeared with blood and sweat. The musty air was heavy with dread. Footsteps echoed—slow, deliberate.
One of the thugs stepped forward, flicking open a knife with a metallic click. He knelt beside Maria, the blade teasing her cheek.
"So pretty… shame that face won't stay that way for long," he sneered.
"Stop wasting time," the gang leader growled, lighting a cigarette. "Do it already."
"Wait," another thug interrupted. "Our client said to humiliate her first... then kill her. What if we have some fun with her first?"
"You're thinking with your dick again," the leader snapped. "Do your job. You want a whore? Go buy one later."
"But no whore will ever be like Lady Chloe," another thug murmured, only to receive a deadly glare from the leader. He shut up instantly.
The leader barked out orders. "You, Two—make her confess. Three, Four, and One, go handle Chloe. Make sure she doesn't escape."
Thug Two marched over and grabbed Maria by the hair, yanking her head up violently. "You going to talk now, or should I carve it out of you?"
Maria met his gaze, blood leaking from her mouth. "Go fuck yourself."
CRACK! A fist smashed into her jaw. Another followed. Then another. Her head lolled, and she spat blood onto the thug's boots. He grunted and wrapped a hand around her throat.
"You really are a stubborn bitch," he hissed.
As he leaned in, Maria used the last of her strength to headbutt him with brutal force.
"Fucking hell!" he cursed, stumbling back and spitting blood.
His rage took over. He kicked her hard in the gut, sending her crashing down with the chair. The legs snapped on impact. Maria groaned, coughing up blood. But it wasn't over.
The thug began kicking the back of the broken chair repeatedly. Each impact drove jagged wood into her back. Maria's screams echoed as laughter filled the room.
Finally, he stomped on her spine with his full weight. Maria howled in agony.
He yanked her up by her hair, displaying her bloody face. "Confess!"
Maria smiled through the pain. "Fine," she whispered.
He brought the recorder to her mouth.
Maria spat. "Go. Fuck. Yourself."
He stared at her, shaking his head. "I'll make you regret that."
---
INT. PRIVATE ROOM – WAREHOUSE
In a dimly lit room that reeked of sedative chemicals and cold steel, Chloe lay bound to a velvet chair. She was surrounded by three thugs. Her porcelain skin shimmered with a light sweat. Fear widened her eyes as she struggled, her skirt shifting slightly with every desperate movement.
"Isn't this overkill?" Thug Three muttered. "She's just some delicate rich girl."
"Delicate?" Thug One scoffed, preparing a syringe. "She's an heir. Don't underestimate her."
"What's that?" Thug Three asked as he watched the clear liquid swirl inside the syringe.
"Sedative," Thug Four replied. "Just in case she fights."
Suddenly, Chloe opened her eyes. Teary, terrified, and trembling. Her voice came out soft, almost childlike.
"Who are you? Please... let me go... Big brother, I don't like injections. I'm scared…"
She sobbed quietly, the soft sound tugging at something primal in the room. She looked like a broken doll, one painted to perfection just to be shattered.
Thug Three froze. Then, as if under a spell, he snatched the syringe and hurled it across the room. Crash.
"Enough. We're killing her anyway. Why sedate her now? Let her be a girl for once."
"The boss said no sex," Thug Four warned.
"Then you just have to watch," Thug Three muttered, his eyes never leaving Chloe as Thug Four flushed and looked away.
---
INT. EXCLUSIVE NIGHTCLUB – VIP ROOM
Private Club Scene – Neo's Side
In the heart of the city, hidden behind an opulent golden gate and thick velvet curtains, was Club Euphoria — the ultimate playground for the rich and reckless. The music throbbed like a heartbeat, deep and seductive, while crystal chandeliers cast soft, expensive light over champagne towers and smoke-filled VIP booths. A private room nestled in the farthest wing screamed exclusivity: gold-plated walls, velvet couches, and guards at the door. Only second-generation elites, heirs of empires , were allowed in.
Neo sat at the center of it all, lounging like a king on a custom leather couch, a cigar smoldering between his fingers and a glass of aged whiskey in his hand. A halo of smoke curled around his sharp jawline, eyes half-lidded in disinterest.
Around him, chaos reigned in luxurious silence. One heir was betting gold chips in a private poker match, the pile before him glowing like a mini treasure hoard. Another heir was trying to snort lines off a model's cleavage while his friends laughed and toasted champagne. Girls in designer heels and glittering dresses hovered like moths to a flame — each one desperate to land in Neo's lap.
"Master Neo, can I pour your drink?" one girl purred, sliding beside him with enough perfume to drown a small country.
Before he could answer, another draped herself across his lap, pressing her breasts against his arm like a present. "Neo, let me warm you up tonight," she whispered, twirling a strand of her fake-blonde hair as she bit her lower lip.
The other heirs started whistling and teasing.
"Hey, hey, line up girls — don't fight over him."
"He's not your boyfriend, sweetheart — he's our prince tonight."
Neo exhaled, letting the smoke curl out from his lips slowly, eyes glittering under the dim lights. "You girls are so loud," he muttered. "Makes me wonder if your mouths are better at talking than kissing."
The bolder one laughed and leaned forward, her voice husky. "Then test me, brother Neo."
The entire room erupted in laughter. The girls clung to him tighter, like he was the prize in a game they all thought they could win.
Just then, the double doors opened and a stunning girl with glossy black curls and a body sculpted by money and yoga strolled in, wearing a velvet dress that shimmered with every step. The second-generation heirs all snapped to attention, clapping and cheering.
"Damn! The number one socialite is here!"
She smiled, kissed a few cheeks, and made a beeline for Neo, ignoring every other guy in the room. With practiced grace, she sat beside him and slid her arm through his.
"Brother Neo," she said with a soft pout, "won't you take care of me tonight?"
The previous girls were immediately forgotten as jealous stares burned into her back. One girl tried to cling tighter to Neo, but another heir shoved her aside with a snort. "Can't you see the queen just took the throne?"
Neo chuckled, sipping his whiskey slowly. "Care for you? Dangerous offer."
The socialite giggled, placing his hand between her cleavage. "I'm already yours."
The room whistled again. Neo leaned closer until their noses almost touched, his smirk devilish.
"You want me to take care of you? Am I safe with you?"
Before she could answer, Neo's phone buzzed on the glass table. He looked down and saw Mike's name flash across the screen.
His smile vanished.
He stood up abruptly, making the girls fall away like petals shaken off a rose. Without a word, he stepped out of the private room, pushing through the doors into a quieter corridor lit with a cool blue glow. He stopped near the glass wall overlooking the glittering skyline, the beat of the club now a distant throb.
He answered the call, cigarette between his lips.
"What is it now? Don't tell me you miss me, Mike," Neo said lazily as smoke curled from his mouth.
The voice on the other end spoke fast. Urgent. Angry.
Neo's eyes narrowed. "Maria again? She always finds a way to make life interesting."
Mike hung up without another word. Neo raised an eyebrow and chuckled, sliding the phone back into his pocket.
"She's really something."
Just as he turned to head back, a girl bumped into him — small frame, hoodie, head down. She mumbled a quick apology and disappeared into the crowd. Neo paused, frowning.
Before he could follow, the socialite reappeared, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.
"Brother Neo, don't leave me. Did I do something wrong? I promise to make your night unforgettable."
Neo rolled his eyes and pried her hands off.
"You rich girls are all the same," he muttered. "You want sex but need to turn it into poetry. Just say what you want no need to cover it with sweet word you want to get fucked so say it now go find a Guy to tell you poetic words to ."
The girl flinched. He stepped past her and entered the elevator, ignoring everyone. He slid into his sleek black sports car, called his men,
Then he felt something wrong.His wrist felt light.
Looking down, he realized his watch — a custom diamond-studded limited edition — was gone.
A slow smirk crept onto his face. "I'll deal with you later, little fox."
He then started the engine.
The hunt was on.
---
INT. VARIETY SHOW STUDIO – BACKSTAGE CHAOS
The studio was in panic. Lights blinked, cameras were being adjusted, but the air was tense.
"Where is Chloe?!" the director screamed, slamming his headset to the table. "The show starts in ten minutes!"
"Sir, her phone isn't reachable," the assistant stammered.
"Damn it!" He kicked over a chair. "We already went live!"
In a private dressing room, Tessa sat comfortably, biting into a crisp apple as makeup artists fluttered around her.
She smirked.
"She won't be coming," she whispered to herself, satisfaction glowing in her eyes.
On stage, the performances had begun. But in the shadows behind the glitter and lights—hell was unfolding.
---