Suddenly, the cheerful scene of the present blurred and faded away. We were thrown back into that terrifying past—the night when Laboni first arrived in prison.
Damp stone walls and iron chains surrounded the place. Inside the dark prison cell, Laboni was not alone. Several other female prisoners were there with her. They wore torn, filthy clothes, their faces marked by long-term abuse and hunger. Outside, the night was growing deeper, and heavy boots echoed through the prison corridor.
Laboni sat silently in one corner. She had no idea yet what filthy plans Henry was plotting for her.
Beside her sat a middle-aged woman named Saleha. She looked at Laboni with pity and whispered:
Saleha:
"You're new, dear? Just hearing the name of this prison makes people tremble. And our Superintendent Henry… ugh! He's not human—he's a complete beast. Once he targets someone, there's no escape."
Another young girl, Ratna, burst into sobs, showing the bruises on her arms.
Ratna:
"Do you know, sister? Last night he took me to his private chamber. My body is still tearing with pain. He doesn't just beat people—he destroys their souls. That man has no mercy. I heard he once had a wife and a child… but he tortured them so badly that they ran away just to survive."
Laboni shrank in fear, thinking of her brother Rehan.
Saleha spoke again:
Saleha:
"Listen, girl. Make yourself strong. There's only one way to survive here—do exactly what he says. And if you're beautiful, your danger is even greater. He keeps pretty girls locked inside the prison to satisfy his perversion. I don't think any of us will ever leave this place alive."
Trembling, Laboni asked,
"But the police… the law… doesn't anyone say anything?"
Ratna gave a bitter smile.
Ratna:
"The law is in his pocket. He's the king here. So many bodies rot in the prison drains—no one keeps count. You'll see. He'll play the same game with you too."
Just then, the heavy lock outside the cell clicked open. Two demon-like guards stood in front of Laboni, holding iron flashlights.
Guard:
"Laboni, get up. The Superintendent wants to see you. There's a special treatment waiting."
Laboni looked once at the other women. Their eyes were filled with terror and silent farewell. She understood—she was stepping into a dark abyss from which return was nearly impossible.
That horrific night inside the prison—
As the guards tried to grab her, Laboni suddenly resisted, fire blazing in her eyes. She refused to surrender her dignity and identity.
She forcefully shook off the guard's hand and shouted:
Laboni:
"Take your hands off me! Don't touch me like that! Why should I go to your Superintendent? I am a doctor! I'm not an ordinary prisoner. I'm an educated citizen. The accusations against me are all lies!"
The other female prisoners shrank back in fear. Saleha whispered desperately:
Saleha:
"Be quiet, dear, be quiet! There's no such thing as a doctor or engineer here. Anyone who enters becomes nothing but a prisoner number."
But Laboni would not stop.
Looking straight into the guards' eyes, she said:
Laboni:
"Do you even know the law? Taking a female prisoner out of her cell at night is a punishable crime! I came here to treat sick inmates—not to entertain your Superintendent!"
The two guards exchanged cruel smiles. One of them shone the flashlight directly into Laboni's eyes and said coldly:
Guard:
"Doctor Madam, you left your degree and knowledge outside this gate. Only Mr. Henry's orders matter here. You'll cooperate willingly—or we'll use another method."
Laboni stood firm. Her chest was pounding, but she didn't show it.
Laboni:
"I won't go. I've done nothing wrong, and I will not bow before that beast."
At that moment, heavy boots echoed from the end of the corridor.
Thud… thud… thud.
The familiar smell of a cigar filled the air.
Henry emerged from the darkness—devilish smile on his lips, a small whip in his hand.
He stepped right in front of Laboni and pushed a lock of hair away from her forehead with the whip.
In a cold voice, he said:
Henry:
"Doctor… I knew you treated patients. But I see you've learned to judge people too. Doctors save lives, don't they? Then come—watch how your brother's life slowly withers away. As a doctor, you might enjoy observing it."
All of Laboni's defiance drained away in an instant.
The word brother sent a chill down her spine.
Henry grabbed her chin tightly.
Henry:
"Will you still say you won't go? Or will you sacrifice your precious degree on that bloodstained floor?"
Laboni went numb. She understood—her brother's life mattered more than her education in this hell.
Lowering her head, she began walking slowly behind Henry.
Behind her remained Saleha and Ratna's broken sighs.
That moment was strangely surreal.
The other women were worn down, their clothes filthy and torn. But Laboni stood apart. Though a prisoner, her dress was clean and neatly pressed—as if she were standing backstage at a fashion show rather than in a prison cell.
Her elegance and beauty shone even in that filthy environment.
Henry stopped in front of her and moved his cigar aside. His gaze was sharp.
In a low, almost whispering voice, he said:
Henry:
"Give me your hand."
Laboni shuddered. Her medical mind knew—there was no escape. Trembling, she slowly extended her soft hand.
When Henry's rough, calloused hand grasped hers, Laboni closed her eyes in disgust and fear. She lowered her head, staring at the floor, unable to meet his gaze.
Henry examined her hand—turning it over. Her nails were neatly trimmed; her skin fair and delicate.
With a mocking smile, he said:
Henry:
"Doctor, everyone in this prison is covered in dirt, but look at your clothes—still ironed, still clean. Your fashion, your refinement… don't they seem oddly out of place in my filthy hell?"
Laboni remained silent, staring at Henry's expensive boots.
Henry tightened his grip.
Henry:
"Everyone here begs like a beggar, yet you stand like a queen. Breaking this arrogance is what I enjoy the most. Can these beautiful hands handle blood? Or are they only used to expensive perfume?"
A tear slipped from Laboni's eye and fell onto Henry's hand.
He flinched—he hadn't expected this stubborn girl to break so quickly.
Abruptly, he let go of her hand.
Henry:
"What are you staring at the floor for? Your fate is lying in that dust. Come with me—I'll show you how easily I can grind your fashion and elegance into nothing."
Laboni followed him slowly.
The dim corridor lights stretched her shadow long across the floor.
She finally realized—her outward beauty and clean appearance were only feeding the savage cruelty growing inside Henry.It was a dark, suffocating night.
After Henry brought Laboni into his private chamber, the air felt so stifling that she stepped out onto the adjoining balcony, desperate to breathe. Outside, there was nothing to see but the prison's towering walls and the sweeping beams of searchlights. The moon was hidden behind thick clouds—just like Laboni's fate.
She stood gripping the balcony railing, her body rigid. There were no tears in her eyes—only a deep, hollow emptiness.
Just then, Henry walked onto the balcony with slow, deliberate steps. A glass of liquor rested in his hand, and his eyes carried that familiar predator's gaze.
Suddenly, Laboni turned and looked straight into his eyes. Her voice was broken, yet carried a strange plea as she spoke in a low whisper:
"May I use your phone… just once?"
Henry was momentarily surprised. He hadn't expected her to ask for anything in this situation. He frowned slightly, then smiled coldly.
Henry:
"A phone? Doctor, have you forgotten where you are? This isn't a five-star hotel where you call friends for leisure. You are my captive."
Without faltering, Laboni replied,
"I know. I won't try to escape—your guards are everywhere. I just want to make one call… to my brother. I only want to know where he is, how he is. Please, give me this one chance."
Henry took a sip from his glass and stepped very close to her. He turned on the phone screen and held it up before her eyes—but did not give it to her.
Henry:
"I can give you the phone. But what will you give me in return, Doctor? Nothing here comes for free. If you want to hear your brother's voice, you must agree to one condition."
Laboni fell silent. She knew Henry would play some game. The cold night air froze the space between them. She wondered—could she really sacrifice her dignity just to know whether her brother was alive?
Seeing the desperation in her eyes, Henry paused for a moment. He pulled out his expensive smartphone. The bluish glow of the screen made Laboni's pale face look even more fragile.
Handing the phone to her, he warned gravely:
"Alright. Take it. But remember—no unnecessary talk. Say only what's needed. I'll be standing right here, listening to every word. Try anything clever, and along with the phone, your hope for your brother will die."
With trembling hands, Laboni took the phone. Her fingers shook violently as she dialed her younger brother Rehan's number. After a few rings, his weak voice came through.
"Hello?"
The moment she heard his voice, a lump of tears rose in her throat. Somehow steadying herself, she turned slightly away and whispered:
"Rehan? It's me, your sister. How are you, brother? Have they hurt you badly?"
Rehan gasped in shock.
"Sister! Where are you? I'm fine, don't worry. But your voice—why does it sound like this? Are they hurting you?"
Laboni glanced sideways at Henry. He leaned against the railing, exhaling smoke, watching her with sharp focus.
Wiping her tears, she said,
"No, I'm fine. I'm in a very good place. Don't worry at all. Take your medicines properly and take care of yourself. I'll get you out of here very soon."
Suddenly, Henry glanced at his watch and barked,
"Time's up. Give me the phone."
Laboni wanted to say more, but Henry snatched the phone from her hand. The call disconnected.
She stood there empty-handed, feeling as though her last thread of connection to her brother had been severed.
As he slipped the phone back into his pocket, Henry said mockingly,
"See, Doctor? How kind I am. I'm keeping your brother alive—and even letting you talk to him. Surely now you won't object to my conditions?"
Laboni clutched the railing tightly. Looking at the dark sky, she thought to herself:
To save Rehan, I must stay in this hell.
That night in the flashback became a turning point in her life.
The memory grew darker, more complex.
As Laboni stared at the sky, she suddenly felt Henry's strong arms wrap around her waist from behind. He pulled her close, pressing his face into her shoulder. His breath crashed against her neck.
In a low, intoxicated voice, he whispered:
"You know, Laboni… I miss you terribly when you're not around. This prison is full of people, but without seeing those stubborn eyes of yours, my days feel empty."
Though she shuddered in disgust, Laboni didn't try to pull away. She knew showing anger now would endanger Rehan.
Slowly, she turned around. Henry still held her.
With calm hands, she straightened his shirt collar—like a caring woman—but her eyes held a strange demand. Looking straight at him, she asked:
"Enough games. Release my brother. Tell me honestly—why was he arrested? He's innocent. He has nothing to do with politics or crime. Why keep a harmless boy trapped in hell?"
Henry clasped her hands and smiled devilishly.
"He didn't do anything wrong—I know that, Doctor. But he committed one unforgivable crime."
Laboni whispered,
"What crime?"
Henry gently lifted her chin.
"His crime is that he is your brother. I needed a decisive move to get you. I knew you wouldn't come easily. So Rehan became the sacrificial pawn. The drug case against him? The file is in my desk drawer. With one stroke of my pen, I can tear it apart—or with another, sentence him to life."
Laboni's limbs went cold.
"So… just to bring me into this room, you destroyed a young man's life?"
Henry rested his forehead against hers.
"Not destruction, Laboni. This is called claiming what's mine. Now it's all in your hands. Keep me satisfied, and Rehan walks free tomorrow morning. Show your 'doctor's pride,' and his next stop will be the underground cells."
In the cold balcony air, Laboni realized she was trapped in a demonic web—where there was no love, only domination and lust.
Suddenly, Laboni let out a soft laugh. It carried no joy—only poisonous vengeance.
Henry froze.
Holding the button of his shirt, she looked straight into his eyes and said fearlessly:
"You think you've won by holding Rehan hostage? But do you know why you hate our family so much, Henry? Do you know why your father died?"
Henry's jaw tightened. His father's death was his deepest wound.
Laboni continued, stepping closer:
"Your father died because of my father. My father was an honest police officer. And your father? He was the king of the underworld. He faced the law because he chose the wrong path. My father's integrity defeated your father's crimes."
Henry grabbed her arm violently, his eyes blazing.
"Shut up, Laboni! Don't speak ill of my father!"
Instead of fear, Laboni laughed louder—her laughter dripping with hatred.
"The truth hurts, doesn't it? What you're doing to me isn't love—it's your inferiority complex. You're taking revenge for your father's defeat. Crime runs in your blood, Henry. That's why you can imprison an innocent doctor and her brother."
Henry shoved her away, trembling.
"My father wasn't evil! Your father framed him! And today I've framed you. Let's see if your 'honest' father's ideals save you now!"
Laboni leaned against the wall, her dress still immaculate, but vengeance burning inside her.
"My father won't save me, Henry. But your sins will destroy you. Every time you touch me, remember—I am the daughter of the officer who defeated your father."
Still holding his collar, she smiled faintly—thousands of contemptuous emotions hidden in that smile.
Leaning close to his ear, she whispered:
"What happened, Mr. Henry? Why so silent? Do you see your reflection now? You look just like your father—feral. My father didn't just arrest him; he cleaned society of its filth. And today, you're doing the same—just wearing a Superintendent's uniform."
Henry shoved her hard, panting.
"My father died because of your father. And now you and your brother will rot here because of me!"
Regaining balance, Laboni leaned on the railing calmly.
"Justice works in strange ways, Mr. Henry. You think you've imprisoned me—but you're imprisoned by your past. Release Rehan. Your fight was with my father, not him."
Henry lit his cigar with shaking hands and laughed madly.
"Why Rehan? Because he's your weakness. And you are my addiction. Your father locked mine in darkness—today I'll lock his daughter in luxury. Not as a prisoner… but as my property."
Stepping closer, he lifted her chin.
"You hate me? Good. The more you hate me, the more pleasure I'll take in owning you. Rehan stays. He'll suffer—and you'll burn slowly in front of my eyes."
Laboni said nothing. She remembered her father's words:
Bowing to injustice only strengthens it.
She decided she would not lose.
If she had to save Rehan, she would play a new game—with the devil himself.
Looking up, her eyes glowing strangely, she said:
"Fine, Mr. Henry. You win. I'll stay in this room—but on one condition. Move Rehan to a general cell. No torture. And I must be allowed to speak to him once every day."
Henry exhaled smoke close to her face and smiled slyly.
"Conditions don't suit you, Doctor. But I respect your courage—and your fine dress. Rehan won't be tortured, as long as you obey me. Remember that."
Laboni didn't stay another second.
Straightening her immaculate dress—as if brushing off his touch—she walked out of the balcony, through the room, and into the corridor.
The guards stared in disbelief. No woman had ever walked out of the Superintendent's room alone like this.
Without looking back, Laboni headed toward the dark cell.
Inside, Saleha and Ratna jolted awake. They had expected she wouldn't return—or would return broken.
But Laboni's eyes burned with fire.
"What happened, dear? Did he hurt you?" Saleha whispered.
Laboni sat calmly against the wall. Prison dust stained her clean dress, but she didn't care.
"He can't hurt me, Aunt Saleha. He thought fear would break me. He doesn't know whose daughter I am. Tonight, he lost."
Ratna whispered in shock,
"Lost? But he's the Superintendent!"
Laboni smiled faintly.
"He has power—but no honor. He's afraid. Haunted by his father's crimes and my father's honesty. He thinks he's trapped Rehan—but he doesn't know how dangerous a tigress becomes when fighting for her cub."
Laboni didn't sleep that night.
The stench, the mosquitoes—nothing disturbed her.
She thought only of Rehan.
At dawn, the prison bell rang.
Standing up, gripping the iron chains, she whispered to herself:
"Mr. Henry, you think I'm your captive. But remember—every step you take toward me brings you closer to your own destruction."