The strapless black dress, for her confrontation with Eduardo Valdés, Minister of the Interior.

Picking up the strapless black dress, Isabella swallowed the fear that had begun to creep into her throat. The minister gives her the creeps, perhaps even more than Romero does. His emotionless face, his unblinking eyes, and his dead-fish lips—it makes her feel like she's looking at a doppelganger. He was also the person responsible for the **** squads and **** chambers, undoubtbly having done unspeakable things in her father's name.

But she must face him. Get to the bottom of the papers, the ones that she found in her father's study. The papers that might expose Romero for his treachery, and others with him.

She slipped her clothes over her head, the expensive fabric gliding smoothly across her skin. Bianca hurried to collect it, exchanging it for the dress, before helping Isabella zip it up from behind

Bianca's soft fingers brushed against Isabella's exposed back, making the young woman shudder involuntarily.

"Thank you, Bianca. Please get the car ready. We leave as soon as possible."

Bianca curtsied and swiftly left, leaving Isabella to gaze at her reflection in the mirror alone. She examined herself carefully, taking in the way the dress hugged her curves, accentuating the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips. Her olive skin was smooth and flawless, her hair cascading down her back in waves.

A sudden wave of doubt hit Isabella, her confidence wavering as she wondered if she would be able to seduce the emotionless man, but she quickly shook it off. She would not let her doubts win, not when so much was at stake.

Isabella took one last look at herself in the mirror, steeling her resolve, before heading out the door.

The car ride to the ministry was uneventful, and before long they arrived at their destination.

As Isabella stepped out of the car, the facade of the building loomed above, casting a heavy shadow upon her. Its black walls and imposing pillars gave it an air of authority and power, a stark contrast to the chaos and turmoil that plagued the country.

A fountain stood at the center before the entrance, the water bubbling frothily as it splashed against the marble tiles. A large statue of an eagle perched atop an all seeing eye adorned the top, the symbol of the Department of National Stability. Isabella frowned. She had been under the impression the department was a secretive organisation ran by the Minister, one that preferred lurking in the dark. The brazen display of its emblem seemed out of place, and spoke much of the direction the ministry was headed towards under Valdés.

The guards at the door, dressed in the signature black of NS Policemen, recognized Isabella immediately. Saluting sharply, they escorted her into the building, guiding her past the busy lobby and into a dimly lit corridor. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor echoed in the empty hall, drowned out by the heavy stomps of the policemen's boots.

They took a turn, followed by another, each corridor appearing identical to the last. Isabella tried to memorize the path, but quickly found herself lost.

After what felt like an eternity, the group finally reached an ending, a heavy looking wooden door set in the middle of thick concrete walls, flanked by two armed guards.

"Minister Valdés is waiting for you, ma'am," one of the guards said, opening the door and ushering her inside.

Isabella stepped into the office, her eyes adjusting to the bright lights. It was a large room, its walls lined with shelves containing stacks upon stacks of folders and binders. A large oak desk stood in the middle, its surface covered with stacks of papers strewn haphazardly.

In the corner of the room, a leather chair sat empty, straps dangling from its arms and legs. A table stood beside it, bearing a strange assortment of objects—a riding crop, a leather gag, and a pair of handcuffs.

A slight chill ran down her spine as the thought of the cold, emotionless man crossed her mind. Her gaze was drawn to the floor, noticing the faint stains on the carpeted floor, dark splotches that could be easily mistaken for spilled coffee. But she knew better. She knew instinctively that this was where he conducted his interrogations, where the screams of the tortured echoed.

"Presidente Reyes," Eduardo said, his voice calm and emotionless as usual.

Isabella shrieked, spinning around and almost toppling over.

Eduardo stood behind her, previously hidden by the open door, his face a blank mask.

"My apologies, Presidente. I didn't mean to frighten you," he said, tilting his head.

Isabella's heart hammered in her chest, and she tried to control her breathing, taking slow deep breaths.

"I... It's quite alright, Minister," she replied, composing herself.

Eduardo gestured to the leather chair, his eyes never leaving her.

"Please, sit."

Isabella hesitated, her gaze lingering on the restraints dangling from the chair.

"Apologies, Presidente. My office is ill equipped for a person of your standing. However, do not worry. I assure you, it's safe."

Isabella approached the chair cautiously, her fingers tracing the leather. She steeled herself, determined not to allow Valdés get under her skin, and slowly lowered herself onto the chair. Its cushions were surprisingly soft and comfortable, and Isabella allowed herself to relax a little.

Eduardo nodded approvingly, his eyes sweeping over her body.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you, Minister," Isabella said, meeting his gaze.

"Oh?"