New job, old boss

 Marcia, once known as Marcos, is sitting at the bar in a luxury club, wearing a red dress she never imagined she’d wear. Her gaze is distant, cutting through the lights and laughter around her. A new client approaches, curious.

— You seem out of place. Shouldn’t you be... enjoying yourself?

Marcia gives a bitter smile and takes a sip of her drink.

— If I told you how I got here, you wouldn’t believe me.

— Try me. I’ve got time.

Marcia lets out a short, bitter laugh.

— I used to be Marcos... a police informant, involved with the wrong people. I made a deal to turn in the mafia. Thought I’d walk away unscathed. Big mistake. They caught me before I could run.

She pauses, looking at her drink as if it holds all the answers.

— And what did they do?

— They transformed me. Literally. Took me to some underground clinic. Strapped me to a table and said they’d give me a "new identity." I thought it was a joke. But it wasn’t. When I woke up... (she gestures to herself) this is what was left of me.

The client stares at her, shocked, unsure of what to say.

— My God... and why? Why did they do this to you?

— To humiliate me. They think it’s funny, seeing me like this, trapped in a body I never wanted, working in this place, in their "other businesses." They wanted me to pay for betraying them. And now, here I am... serving as their joke and their currency.

The client swallows hard, feeling the weight of the story. But before she can respond, Domenico, the mafia enforcer, approaches with a cynical smile.

— Marcia, telling your tragic stories again? (looks at the client) Don’t mind her, darling. She loves to dramatize. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a VIP table waiting.

Marcia stands slowly, but before following, she glares at Domenico with cold eyes.

— One day, I’ll turn the tables. Just wait.

— Sweet Marcia, you’re already where you’ll always be. Now be a good girl and get back to work.