At 2:02 PM, Alessia crosses the main hallway. Her naked body shows the signs of the morning session. Alessia steps into the living room to find Giorgio waiting, his hand already gripping a paddle. She recognizes it immediately—the beechwood one, with six holes drilled in a line across its surface. "Come here," he commands without looking up. His voice carries the weight of authority, low and controlled. Alessia approaches...

On Saturday morning, the house is quiet. Giorgio finishes his breakfast standing by the window. The view overlooks the nondescript street of the working-class neighborhood: comb-like parking spaces, half-withered trees, a still-lit streetlamp. He sips his coffee and glances at his daughter. Alessia had arrived the night before. She lives on her own now, but sometimes spends the weekend with her father. She's wearing dark...