Yeah but his hypnotic leash keeps his sister frozen like a statue

Stefano’s golden eyes burned into his voluptuous milf sister's very soul, the middle-aged archeologist's disgust a palpable **** as he took in the sight of her freshly lacquered nails—crimson and glossy, a stark contrast to the grime and decay that coated every other inch of her life.

"Bitch had money for her nails but not to pay debts."

The thought coiled in Stefano’s mind like a serpent, venomous and cold. His fingers twitched with the urge to punish her right then—to strip those painted claws from her fingers one by one, to make her **** on the very vanity that had stolen Nora, his niece’s innocence and safety.

But tonight wasn’t about her suffering.

No, tonight was about control.

"Here," he said, his deep baritone deceptively smooth, "use the money to pay a fraction of the debt. They won’t bother you for a few days."

Patrizia’s breath hitched as the hypnotic hold on the mature brunette's curvy body loosened just enough for his sister to move her arms.

"Huu..."

Her fingers trembled, the glossy nails catching the dim light as the reached for the bag. The moment the curvy slut's pale skin brushed the stack of euros, her pupils dilated—a gambler’s hunger flaring behind her green irises.

Ten thousand euros.

Neatly packed.

"F-Fuck!! Where was he hiding all of this? This must be from his retirement savings... A-All of this just for Nora?" A mental echo flared on the incubus mind's eye, with Stefano's new powers it would be quite easy to recoup these losses. Besides his sweet niece was worth this and much more.

Yet all these five hundred euro notes awakened the monster sleeping in his junkie sister's soul.

Ten thousand bills...

Untraceable.

"Damn... W-What if..."

For a fleeting second, fantasies flickered through the gambling addict milf's mind—a weekend in Monaco, a new designer dress, a high-stakes poker table where she could double the money, triple it—

"Don’t even think about it."

Stefano’s deep baritone lashed out like a whip, Osiris Champion's hypnotic leash twisted inside the voluptuous brunette's skull. The images of casinos and luxury evaporated, replaced by a single, unshakable directive:

Pay off the debt

Patrizia’s throat worked around a silent whimper. The command wasn’t just words—it was a neural brand, searing her impulses into compliance. The mature woman's lithe fingers clenched around the bag, her knuckles whitening as the compulsion settled into her bones.

Stefano watched, satisfaction curling his lips. "Good girl."

The praise was a mockery. Patrizia’s curvy body flushed with unwanted heat, her pierced nipples pebbling beneath the torn remnants of her shirt.

"F-Fuck this shit... W-Why does it feel so good!?" Another soul fragment, dripping with lust and corruption...

She hated him.

"Dammit!! T-This is not the end..."

Patrizia hated how her cunt throbbed when he spoke. She hated how even now, her addict’s mind was calculating ways to skirt his control.

But most of all, she hated that he was right.

Stefano turned to leave, his boots crunching over the debris of her life—empty liquor bottles, discarded betting slips, the ghost of his dirty sister's failures. He didn’t bother closing the door behind him.

The message was clear:

You’re not worth the effort.