Episode 3:Problem Solver

The following morning, the sun rose over a quiet house, but the tension inside was already brewing. Soniya had gone out early with Terry’s mother, Sarah, for a morning shopping trip, leaving Aunt Kyler to serve breakfast to the children. Sitting at the table alongside his older siblings, Julia and Henry, seven-year-old Terry stared blankly at his plate, refusing to touch a single bite.

Kyler watched him, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "You said you didn't want the other meal, and I made you this. Why aren't you eating?"

Terry glared at her, his small face twisting with anger. "I don't want your meal. I want my mom's own."

Kyler’s patience snapped. "You little punk, eat the food now!"

Driven by a defiant rage, the young boy stood up from his chair. "NO!" With a sudden swing of his arm, he threw the plate across the room, sending the food flying as Julia and Henry watched in stunned silence.

"Okay, you called it," Kyler muttered grimly. Grabbing his hand forcefully, she dragged him down the hallway to his room, shoved him inside, and locked the door from the outside. "This is your punishment."

Left alone in the quiet room, Terry burst into tears, desperately missing Soniya’s comforting presence. Then, he remembered the secret token in his pocket. He pulled out the delicate lace undergarment she had given him the night before, hugging it tightly against his chest. As the scent washed over him, he felt Soniya’s presence filling the empty room, and a slow, comforted smile broke through his tears.

In the present day, the aftermath of a different betrayal was exploding in the university classroom. Olivia stood before Fred and Darby, her face flushed with a mixture of tears and absolute fury. Without warning, she swung her hand and slapped Darby hard across the face.

Outside, peering through the classroom window, Terry watched the drama unfold in silence.

"I know Fred likes screwing around with girls," Olivia cried, her voice trembling violently. "But you... I... I trusted you, Darby! You said we were best friends!"

Fred stepped forward, raising his hands defensively. "Liv, please let me talk to you."

"Don't you dare touch me, you piece of shit!" Olivia screamed, backing away. "I hate you!"

Turning on her heel, Olivia fled the classroom, lifting the hem of her beautiful white ball gown as she ran down the corridor in tears.

Terry’s gaze followed her escape. *Even when she cries, she is still beautiful,* he thought, a dark protectiveness taking root. *But I want her to smile, not cry. I will solve her problem.*

Inside the classroom, Fred turned on Darby, his face twisted in anger. "You told me she will not make it tonight!"

"I don't know how, but—" Darby started, but Fred cut her off with a harsh wave of his hand.

"This... me and you are done," Fred snapped. He turned and stormed out, leaving Darby completely shattered, sinking into a chair as she wept.

Terry watched Fred leave, a cynical smirk forming behind his face mask. *What is special about this guy? Why are girls crying over him? I guess girls like the guy that don't respect them.* Slipping a pair of leather gloves onto his hands, Terry stepped away from the window and followed Fred into the night.

Meanwhile, Olivia arrived back at her hostel room, completely heartbroken. In a fit of rage and grief, she tore at the delicate fabric of her ball gown, ripping the very dress Terry had sold her. Pulling out her notebook, she began writing frantically through her tears, pouring her pain onto the pages.

Outside, the campus grounds were quiet. Fred was walking down a dimly lit path, casually smoking a cigarette, completely unaware of the shadow closing in behind him. In one swift, practiced motion, Terry ambushed him from the dark, knocking him unconscious before he could even scream. Dragging the limp body across the asphalt, Terry hoisted Fred into the trunk of his car and drove off into the New Orleans night.

Arriving at Milana Gowinies, Terry unlocked the front door and dragged Fred’s heavy body down into the shop's hidden basement.

The basement housed a massive, specialized wardrobe made of a black, transparent material. It was large enough for five people to stand inside comfortably, but uniquely designed to fit one person laying down to sleep. The mechanics of the glass were entirely one-sided: from the inside, it was a wall of absolute, impenetrable blackness, but from the outside, everything was perfectly visible. Terry dropped Fred onto the floor of the structure, closed the heavy door securely, and left the basement.

His own apartment was located directly adjacent to the shop. Retiring to his living space, Terry finally relaxed. *Even though you cried, Olivia, you still made my day,* he thought, reflecting on the evening. *I saw the real you. Your weakness, your life, your anger.*

He pulled the lace undergarment he had taken from her wardrobe out of his pocket. Scanning the room for a secure hiding place, he neatly tucked it inside a decorative flower vase. *Flower vase... it's a good place for hiding important things. So I trust it.*

Sitting down, Terry produced Fred’s smartphone, which he had lifted from the guy's pocket earlier. With a few casual swipes, he bypassed the lock screen entirely. *You might be wondering how I knew his password. He is a stupid, dumb guy. He even posted his password on social media.* With a smirk, Terry began methodically scrolling through the cheating boyfriend’s private messages and data.

The next morning, the sun broke through the window of the hostel room. Darby stirred awake, opening her eyes just in time to see Olivia gathered her things, already heading for the door.

"Good morning to you too," Darby muttered sarcastically, rubbing her eyes. "You didn't wake me up."

Olivia didn't offer a single word in response. Ignoring her completely, she marched out of the room, slamming the door shut with a resounding thud that echoed down the hallway.

Down in the boutique’s basement, Terry walked toward the large black wardrobe carrying a small snack and a bottle of water. He reached over and flipped a switch, removing the black sensor effect from the glass. Suddenly, the darkness vanished for Fred, revealing the brightly lit basement and Terry standing right in front of him.

Fred scrambled backward against the glass, panicked and disoriented. "Who... who are you?!" he yelled, his voice muffled but furious. "Why am I here? Let me go!"

Ignoring the outburst, Terry unlocked a small, circular feeding port built into the wardrobe door. He tossed the water bottle and the snack inside, immediately locking it shut again. "Eat," Terry commanded coldly, turning to leave.

"I know you!" Fred shouted desperately against the glass.

Terry froze in his tracks, his back stiffening.

"You are that guy Olivia was talking about!" Fred yelled, pointing a trembling finger. "You own that shop she bought that ball gown from, right?!"

A cold shock waved through Terry’s system, his heart stopping for a fraction of a second. *Oh my fucking God!*

The sudden threat of exposure dragged his mind backward, triggering a vivid memory of the bathroom twenty years ago.

Soniya had been waiting anxiously for him in their usual secret meeting spot when seven-year-old Terry ran in, a bright, happy smile on his face. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, his small height only reaching her abdomen. Soniya immediately dropped to her knees to face him, but her expression wasn't loving—it was fierce with anger.

"What have you done to Aunt Kyler?" Soniya demanded, her grip tight on his shoulders.

Terry’s innocent smile vanished, replaced by an angry pout. "She disrespected you! That is why I did it to her."

Soniya’s eyes narrowed, her voice a sharp, harsh whisper as she corrected his sloppy execution. "You dumb, fucking child! Do I have to teach you everything? You don't solve problems in public. You do it in secret. You hear me?"

Looking into her eyes, the young Terry absorbed the lesson, nodding slowly as a loyal smile returned to his face. Seeing his compliance, Soniya’s harsh expression melted into a twisted, approving smile, cementing the dark philosophy he would carry into adulthood.

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