GIRLS WHO BECAME SHEIKHS’ SLAVES ! Collection of Terrible Criminal Cases About Models in Dubai

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The wait was nerve-wracking.

Karolina hardly left her room.

They brought her books and a tablet with internet access.

She contacted her mother via messenger and told her that everything was going well.

Her mother asked when she would be coming home.

Karolina replied that in about 9 months as planned.

2 weeks later the test confirmed the pregnancy.

Dr. Hassan congratulated her and said that everything was going well.

Now the observation period would begin.

Karolina asked about moving into the apartment.

The doctor replied that in the coming weeks they needed to make sure that the pregnancy was developing steadily.

Weeks passed, but the move did not happen.

Karolina began to worry.

She asked the nurses when she would be discharged.

The answers were evasive.

Soon, the doctor decides, “We need to wait for the test results.

” She tried to leave the building, but the doors on the first floor were locked with electronic locks.

The security guard politely explained that this was for the safety of the patients and that they could only leave with a pass.

In the sixth week of her pregnancy, Karolina was summoned to Dr. Hassan’s office.

With him was another man who introduced himself as Mr.

Al- Maktum, the AY’s lawyer.

They asked her to sit down and placed some documents in front of her.

Dr. Hassan explained that when she signed the contract, there were some addenda that she might not have read in full.

He spoke calmly and methodically in particular addendum number three which he had signed along with the main contract.

Carolina did not remember any addendum number three.

She asked to see it.

Mr.

Al-Maktum handed her a folder.

Inside were pages in English with her signature and the date at the bottom.

July 2017.

Carolina began to read.

The text was legal ease, complicated, but the gist was clear.

She agreed to participate in an extended surrogacy program which involved carrying at least 10 pregnancies over a period not exceeding 15 years.

She read it twice.

10 pregnancies.

15 years.

It was impossible.

She had signed a contract for one pregnancy, 9 months.

She said this out loud.

Mr.

Al-Maktum replied that her signature was at the bottom of each page and that everything was completely legal.

Carolina tried to object.

She said she had been deceived, that she didn’t understand what she was signing, that she wanted to terminate the contract and return home.

Dr. Hassan shook his head.

He explained that according to UAE law and the terms of the contract, she could no longer unilaterally terminate the agreement.

The pregnancy had begun.

The embryo had been implanted.

Termination of the pregnancy was prohibited without medical indications.

And after giving birth, preparations for the next pregnancy would begin.

She asked what would happen if she refused.

Mr.

Al-Maktum replied that in that case, the agency would be forced to apply penalties in accordance with the contract.

The amount was $2 million plus all medical expenses.

Criminal prosecution for fraud and breach of contract is also possible in the UAE where the punishment for this can be severe.

Karolina sat in shock.

$2 million, a criminal case.

She didn’t understand how this had happened.

She asked for a lawyer and wanted to contact the Polish consulate.

Mr.

Al-Maktum said that she had the right to a lawyer, but first recommended that she carefully review all the documents she had signed.

the consulate would be informed that she was here of her own free will participating in a legal medical program.

That evening, Karolina tried to contact her mother, but the internet on her tablet stopped working.

She asked the nurse for a phone, but the nurse said it was not possible at the moment as the doctor had forbidden her to get upset as it was harmful to her pregnancy.

Karolina started screaming, demanding to be put in touch with the outside world.

Security arrived and the nurse gave her a sedative injection.

She fell asleep.

When she woke up, she had been moved to another room.

It was not a room, but rather a ward, a metal bed, a bedside table, a toilet, and a sink in the corner.

There were no windows.

The door was locked from the outside.

The walls were painted white and the lighting consisted of cold fluorescent lamps.

Thus began Carolina Voychic’s confinement.

She spent her first pregnancy in this ward.

The regime was strict.

Wake up at 7:00 in the morning, breakfast at 8, medical examination at 9:00.

Meals were served three times a day.

The diet was prescribed by doctors, and the portions were small.

No snacks, no special requests.

Once a week she had an ultrasound and once a month an extended examination.

Karolina tried to protest, refused to eat, and demanded to meet with consulate representatives.

The staff ignored her demands.

When she refused to eat, they put her on IV drips with nutrient solutions.

When she screamed, they gave her sedatives.

After a few weeks, she realized that resistance was futile.

The only thing she could control was her mental state.

The pregnancy proceeded normally.

Dr. Hassan conducted regular examinations, monitored the development of the fetus, and adjusted vitamins and supplements.

He treated her not as a person, but as a patient, a carrier.

He asked questions only about her well-being and symptoms, no personal conversations.

At 38 weeks, Karolina went into labor.

She was taken to the maternity ward, which was located in the same complex.

The birth was natural without complications.

The baby was a girl, healthy, weighing 3 kg, 200 g.

Carolina saw her for a few seconds.

Then the newborn was taken away.

She never saw her again.

After the birth, she was given 2 days to recover.

On the third day, Dr. Hassan came, examined her, and said that everything was fine.

The uterus was contracting normally.

In 2 weeks, preparations for the next pregnancy would begin.

Karolina just remained silent.

She no longer had the strength to argue.

Preparations began 3 weeks later.

Again, hormone injections again.

Tests again, waiting for ovulation.

A month later, the second implantation was performed.

The pregnancy was confirmed.

The cycle repeated itself.

The second pregnancy was more difficult.

Carolina gained weight, developed edema, and her blood pressure rose.

The doctors adjusted her treatment and added medications.

The delivery was more complicated and required an aesiottomy.

The baby was a boy and was taken away immediately.

After the second birth, Karolina tried to figure out where she was.

From the staff’s conversations, she realized that the clinic was located somewhere in the desert, far from the city.

Apparently, it was an isolated medical complex where women were brought for similar programs.

She was not the only one.

Sometimes she heard the voices of other women in the hallway and the cries of babies.

She tried to talk to the nurse to ask how many others like her were there.

The nurse, a Filipino woman in her 40s, did not answer right away.

Then she quietly said that she was not allowed to talk to patients about personal matters.

But Karolina saw sympathy in her eyes.

That gave her hope.

Her third pregnancy began 4 weeks after her second delivery.

Carolina’s body protested.

Her hormonal balance was disrupted and she developed problems with her cycle.

The doctors increased the doses of medication.

The implantation was successful, but the pregnancy was accompanied by toxicosis, constant nausea, and weakness.

By this point, almost 2 years had passed since her arrival in Dubai.

Karolina lost track of time.

The days merged into one gray mass.

Examinations, injections, tests, ultrasounds, childbirth, a short break, and then preparation again.

Her body had turned into a machine for carrying children.

The doctors only made sure that she did not die and could continue to give birth.

During her third pregnancy, she asked Dr. Hassan who the children were given to.

He replied that it was none of her business.

The children were given to families according to contracts.

Each pregnancy was paid for separately.

The money was accumulated in her account, and she would receive it after fulfilling all her obligations.

Karolina did not believe him.

She understood that she would never see the money.

After her third delivery, her physical condition deteriorated.

She developed vein problems, varicose veins, back pain, and hormonal imbalances.

The doctors provided supportive care, but nothing more.

The minimum necessary to continue the program.

During her fourth pregnancy, she had a miscarriage at 12 weeks.

Carolina was taken for a DNC which was a painful procedure.

Dr. Hassan was unhappy saying that it reduced the effectiveness of the program.

She was given 3 weeks to recover.

Then the preparation began again.

The fourth successful pregnancy ended in premature birth at 36 weeks.

The baby was small but survived.

After giving birth, Karolina was transferred back to the ward.

She had stretch marks all over her stomach.

Her breasts sagged and her hair began to fall out.

She was 26 years old, but she looked 40.

Somewhere between her fifth and sixth pregnancies, she tried to kill herself.

She saved up the sleeping pills she was given and took them all at once.

She was found unconscious in the morning, pumped out, and put on an IV.

After that, her medication was strictly controlled and she was forced to swallow it in front of a nurse.

Psychologically, Karolina was on the verge of collapse.

There were days when she just lay there staring at the ceiling, unresponsive.

There were days when she cried for hours.

The staff paid no attention.

The only thing that mattered was her ability to carry her next child to term.

During her sixth pregnancy, something happened that changed her situation a little.

A new intern, a young doctor named Ahmed, arrived at the clinic.

He was about 30 years old and looked different from the rest of the staff.

There was less indifference in his eyes.

During one of the examinations, he lingered and asked her how she was feeling, not formally, but in a human way.

Carolina cautiously tried to find out if he knew what was going on in this clinic.

Akmed replied evasively, saying that he was new here doing his internship.

She asked if he could help.

He looked at her for a long time, then shook his head, and left.

Over the next few weeks, he showed up regularly, conducted examinations, and took tests.

Karolina didn’t bring up the subject of help, afraid that he would be replaced.

But one day when no one else was in the ward, Akmed said quietly that he understood her situation.

He said there were several others like her here.

Women from different countries brought here under various pretexts held against their will.

She asked why he didn’t go to the police.

Akmed explained that the clinic had powerful connections.

The owners were linked to influential people.

The paperwork was flawless and all the contracts were legally valid.

The police would not investigate.

Moreover, if he tried to do something, he would simply be fired or worse.

Karolina asked him to pass on a message to her mother, at least to let her know that she was alive.

Akmed said it was dangerous, but he would think about it.

A week later, he came back and said he had tried to find information about her.

It turned out that Karolina was officially dead.

The clinic’s database contained documents, a death certificate dated a year earlier.

The cause of death was complications during childbirth, throbo embolism.

The body was allegedly cremated and the ashes sent to the family.

Karolina didn’t believe it at first.

Then she realized that this explained why no one was looking for her.

Her mother had received the coffin with the ashes and buried her.

The Polish consulate closed the case.

Legally, she didn’t exist.

She was a ghost, a living corpse locked up in a clinic in the middle of the desert.

She asked Akmed if he could bring any evidence out, photographs, CCTV recordings, a copy of the fake death certificate, something that would prove she was alive, that crimes were being committed here.

Ahmed hesitated.

He said it was very risky, but on his next visit, he brought a USB flash drive.

He said he had copied several files, recordings from the cameras in her room over the past month, scans of her real documents from the clinic’s database, a copy of the fake death certificate.

That might be enough to raise the issue.

Karolina asked what he was going to do.

Akmed replied that he knew a journalist in Dubai who was involved in investigations.

He would pass the materials on to him anonymously.

Then we would see what happened.

3 weeks passed.

Nothing changed.

Karolina continued to carry her sixth pregnancy.

The delivery was difficult with bleeding.

She was saved, but her uterus was damaged.

Dr. Hassan said that this might be her last pregnancy and that she needed to be examined.

The examination showed that she could still carry children, but with an increased risk.

The clinic’s management decided to continue the program.

They began preparations for the seventh pregnancy.

Then, unexpectedly, the police arrived at the clinic.

It was a normal morning.

Carolina heard shouting, doors slamming, and footsteps in the hallway.

Then, her door opened and two uniformed police officers and a woman in business suit.

The woman introduced herself as a representative of an international human rights organization.

She said that they had received information about the illegal detention of people in this clinic.

They conducted an inspection and found violations.

The clinic was closing and all patients held there against their will would be released.

Karolina cried.

She couldn’t believe it was real.

She was taken out of the ward, transported to a hospital in Dubai, and given a full medical examination.

Over time, it became clear that 11 women in similar situations were being held at the clinic.

They were from different countries, the Philippines, Ukraine, Romania, Ethiopia.

All of them had been lured with promises of high earnings and were being held against their will.

The investigation revealed that the clinic was indeed connected to influential people, but the publication of the materials in the international press caused such a stir that the UAE authorities could not ignore it.

Dr. Hassan, several employees, and the owner of the agency were arrested.

Mr.

Al-Maktum disappeared, probably leaving the country.

Karolina was returned to Poland.

Her mother was in shock.

She had actually buried her daughter a year ago, receiving ashes that, as it turned out later, were just ash.

The reunion was difficult, full of tears and mistrust.

Physically, Carolina was exhausted.

Seven pregnancies in 4 years had ruined her health.

Doctors in Poland said she would no longer be able to have children as her uterus was irreversibly damaged.

Psychologically, she suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, and anxiety.

She began working with a psychotherapist.

The trial of the clinic’s owners dragged on.

The UAE extradited several defendants, but some remained out of reach.

Compensation to the victims was symbolic, and most of the clinic’s assets were withdrawn or frozen.

Karolina’s story received widespread publicity.

Journalists wrote articles and made documentaries.

She gave interviews and talked about what she had been through.

She wanted people to know that this kind of thing could happen.

That contracts signed in desperation or trust could turn into a life sentence.

Ahmed, the intern who helped her, also testified.

He was fired from the clinic immediately after the information was leaked, but he had no regrets.

He said in an interview that he couldn’t remain silent when he saw what was happening to these women.

Now, several years later, Karolina lives in Koff.

She volunteers for an organization that helps victims of human trafficking.

She speaks at conferences, warning women about the dangers of dubious contracts abroad.

She is still undergoing therapy and still has nightmares.

She says that the main thing she has realized is that there are places and people in the world for whom a human being is not a person but a resource.

Biological material that can be exploited as long as it functions and that no amount of money is worth risking your freedom and your life.

The seven children she gave birth to now live in different families.

She does not know where they are, what their names are, or who is raising them.

Under UAE law and the terms of her contracts, she has no relationship with them.

Legally, she was never their mother.

She was only a surrogate.

This is what she has to live with every day.

This story began in July 2023 when 27-year-old Elizabetha Veronova posted a series of photos from Dubai on her profile.

She was a mid-level influencer with an audience of about 180,000 followers specializing in content about travel and art.

Her last post was made on July 23rd.

After that, the profile went silent.

No one raised the alarm.

In the influencer industry, breaks in activity were considered normal.

Brands stopped collaborating.

Subscribers gradually lost interest and the account slowly faded away.

Voronova flew to Dubai at the invitation of a man who introduced himself as Fared al-Manssuri.

He contacted her through a professional agent who worked with artists and models.

The offer sounded attractive.

Participation in a private art project for a contemporary art collection, $50,000 in payment, accommodation in the collector’s villa.

The work was supposed to take about 2 weeks.

Voronova agreed after checking the references of the agent who had real contacts in the art world and worked with several well-known galleries in Europe.

Al-Mansuri met her at the airport in person.

He was a reserved man in his 50s who spoke proper English with a British accent.

He was dressed in a light colored European style suit.

They were driven in a premium car with a driver.

During the trip, Al-Manssouri talked about his collection.

He collected contemporary art but was particularly interested in works related to the theme of the body and its transformation.

He mentioned several well-known artists who worked in this direction.

Voronova took notes.

She saw this project as an opportunity to enter more serious art circles.

The villa was not located in the city center but on the outskirts in a deserted area where buildings were sparse.

It was a house of modern architecture with large glass surfaces and white walls.

The territory was fenced off by a high fence.

Inside, the interior was minimalist.

There was a lot of light.

On the walls hung works that Veronova recognized as the creations of several famous artists.

Al-Mansuri showed her around the house, showed her the guest room, and explained the layout.

There was practically no staff to be seen, only a driver and a cook who appeared twice a day to prepare meals.

On the first evening, they discussed the details of the project.

Al-Mansuri showed her sketches and explained the concept.

He wanted to create a series of photographs and video works exploring the idea of immobility and time.

Veronova was to be placed in various poses wrapped in special materials resembling bandages.

He explained this as a reference to ancient Egyptian mummification practices, but in a modern context.

The work was to be conceptual, no eroticism or provocation, pure art.

Voronova asked questions.

Al-Mansuri answered in detail and convincingly.

He showed her the contract she had signed in Moscow through an intermediary.

Everything looked legitimate.

Filming began the next day.

Al-Mansori worked methodically.

First simple poses.

Veronova stood or sat while he took photos from different angles.

Then he began to use materials.

White strips of fabric soaked in some kind of solution.

He explained that it was a special compound that created the desired texture and allowed the material to retain its shape.

The smell was faint, medicinal.

Voronova did not object.

Al-Mansori worked professionally without unnecessary touching, commenting on each action.

The first session lasted about 3 hours.

Then he unwound the bandages, thanked her for her work, and let her rest.

On the third day, Al-Mansori suggested trying a more complex composition.

He wanted to fix her hands in a certain position to achieve the desired visual effect.

He used thin plastic splints which he attached under layers of fabric.

Veronova felt discomfort but not severe.

Al-Mansori constantly asked if she was in pain and adjusted the tension.

After the shoot, he did not immediately remove the contraption.

He said he wanted to take a few more shots with different lighting.

Veronova spent about an hour in this position.

When she was released, her arms were slightly numb.

Al-Mansuri brought a warm towel and helped her stretch her muscles.

He apologized for the inconvenience and increased the promised payment by $10,000.

By the end of the first week, the shoots became more intense.

Al-Mansuri said he was getting closer to the desired result.

Now he was fixing not only her arms but also her legs, using more layers of material.

Voronovva began to feel that the project was going beyond what she had expected, but the money was good.

The contract was signed, and she saw no reason to stop.

Al-Mansori was polite and attentive.

Once she complained of a headache, and he immediately stopped work, brought her medicine, and allowed her to rest for the whole day.

On the 10th day, the first serious incident occurred.

Al-Mansori asked her to lie down on a special platform that he had set up in one of the rooms.

He explained that this would be the final composition, the most important one.

Veronova lay down.

Al-Mansori began to wrap her body as usual, but this time he worked longer and used more material.

The layers became thicker.

Veronova felt that she could not move.

She tried to say that she was uncomfortable, but her voice came out muffled because of the fabric that covered part of her face.

Al-Mansuri did not react.

He continued to work.

Veronova began to panic.

She tried to move her arms, but they were completely immobilized.

Her legs wouldn’t move either.

She tried to scream, but the sound was weak.

Al-Mansori finished wrapping her body and walked away.

Veronova heard the click of a camera shutter, then silence.

She didn’t know how much time had passed.

Maybe 10 minutes, maybe more.

Her panic grew.

Her heart was beating so hard that she could feel her pulse in her ears.

Then she heard Al-Mansuri’s voice.

He spoke calmly, almost monotonously.

He explained that this was the real project, that all the previous days had been preparation, that she would become part of his collection, a living work of art.

Voronova tried to scream, but her voice was still muffled by the material.

Al-Mansuri continued to speak.

He talked about ancient Egyptian mummification practices.

About how priests preserved the bodies of pharaohs for eternal life.

About how modern medicine allows this to be done with a living person.

That she would exist in this state for many years.

That he had done this before.

But those experiments had been unsuccessful.

That she was the perfect specimen.

Voronova listened and couldn’t believe what was happening.

It sounded like the ravings of a madman.

She waited for him to laugh and say that it was all part of a performance, that in a minute he would release her and they would laugh at her reaction.

But Al-Mansuri did not laugh.

His voice remained calm and serious.

He moved closer.

Voronova felt a prick in her arm.

Then the world began to blur.

When she came too, pain was the first thing she felt.

a sharp throbbing pain in her hands, specifically in her fingers.

She tried to move them but couldn’t, not only because her body was wrapped up, but because her fingers simply didn’t respond.

Voronova opened her eyes.

Above her was the ceiling, white with spotlights.

She tried to turn her head, but it wouldn’t move.

Her body wouldn’t move either, only her eyes.

She could blink and move her eyes.

Al-Mansori appeared in her field of vision.

He was smiling.

He said that the procedure had been successful, that he had fixed her joints in the correct position, that now she would not be able to move even if her bandages were removed, that this was necessary for long-term preservation.

Veronova tried to scream, but only a weeze came out of her throat.

Al-Mansori explained that her vocal cords were temporarily paralyzed by a mild toxin, that in a few weeks her voice would return, but by then she would be fully prepared and would not want to scream.

The following days were a blur.

Al-Mansuri gave her regular injections.

Sometimes Veronova fell into asleep or a state of semi- delirium.

Sometimes she was conscious and understood everything that was happening.

Al-Mansori continued to work on her body.

He added layers of material.

He changed the bandages for new ones, soaked in other solutions.

He explained each stage like a teacher giving a lecture.

He said that he was using special compounds that slowed down the skin’s metabolism and prevented tissue destruction.

that nutrition would be delivered through a thin tube inserted into her stomach, that her excretoryy system would be redirected through catheters, that she would feel no discomfort if she did not resist.

Forovva did not know how much time had passed when she was moved to another room.

It was a room with high ceilings and subdued lighting.

Al-Mansori placed her in a transparent container, a glass sarcophagus, as he called it.

Inside was a system for maintaining temperature and humidity.

Tubes and wires were hidden under her body.

From the outside, the structure looked like a museum exhibit.

Al-Mansuri spent a long time adjusting the lighting.

He took photographs.

He said that the result exceeded his expectations, that she looked perfect.

It was his private gallery.

Veronova did not immediately realize that there were other exhibits in the room.

When her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw several more containers along the walls.

Some of them contained human figures wrapped in bandages.

They all looked like mummies.

Forova could not tell whether they were alive or not.

The containers were sealed.

There was no movement.

Only her sarcophagus had a life support system.

Wires and tubes were visible upon closer inspection.

Al-Mansori came regularly, sometimes alone, sometimes with guests.

He showed his collection like a museum guide.

He talked about the concept behind each work.

He spoke of Voronova as his latest and most successful acquisition.

Guests looked at her, commented on the quality of the workmanship, discussed the details.

No one asked questions.

No one doubted that they were looking at a work of art and not a living person.

Voronova tried to signal.

She moved her eyes, tried to blink more often.

No one paid any attention.

Time lost its meaning.

Days turned into nights.

The light in the gallery dimmed in the evening and became brighter in the morning.

Al-Mansori came to check the systems.

He changed the nutrient solutions.

Sometimes he gave injections.

Veronova gradually lost her sense of reality.

Sometimes she thought it was an endless nightmare from which she would soon wake up.

Sometimes she accepted the situation as a new reality in which she would have to exist for an indefinite period of time.

Her thoughts slowed down.

Her consciousness dulled.

Maybe it was the effect of the chemicals.

Maybe it was a protective reaction of the psyche.

At some point, a new person appeared in the gallery.

A worker.

Al-Manssori had hired him to maintain the villa’s technical systems.

His name was Ahmed Khalil, a man of about 35 of Filipino origin.

He had been working in Dubai for 8 years.

He was engaged in servicing air conditioning and electrical systems in private homes.

Al-Mansuri called him to check the climate control in the gallery.

The system was malfunctioning.

The temperature was fluctuating, which could damage the exhibits.

Khalil entered the gallery with his tools.

Al-Mansori explained the problem and left him to work.

Khalil began his inspection.

He examined the control units and checked the sensors.

Everything was in order with the main system.

The problem was in the local controller of one of the containers, the very one where Voronova was located.

Khalil moved closer to examine the control panel.

He glanced at the contents of the container.

He saw a wrapped figure.

He thought it was a sculpture or a mannequin.

Then he noticed that the chest was rising and falling slightly, very slowly, almost imperceptibly, but there was movement.

Khalil looked more closely.

He saw tubes.

He saw wires leading into the container.

He realized that this was not just an exhibit.

He took a step back.

He looked at the other containers.

He approached the nearest one.

No movement.

He returned to the first one.

The chest continued to move.

Khalil stood in front of the container and tried to figure out what to do.

He was not a man prone to impulsive decisions.

8 years of working in Dubai had taught him caution.

Wealthy clients could have strange hobbies and collections.

He had seen rooms with exotic animals, private museums with questionable exhibits, basements converted into bunkers.

He had learned not to ask unnecessary questions.

But this was different.

This was a living person sealed in a glass box.

He finished checking the climate control faster than he had planned.

He gathered his tools.

Al-Mansuri was waiting for him in the lobby.

Khalil reported the problem with the controller and offered a solution.

Al-Mansuri nodded, paid in cash, and walked him to the exit.

Khalil got in his car and drove away.

All the way home, he thought about what he had seen.

He tried to find a logical explanation.

Maybe it was a medical experiment.

Maybe some kind of therapy.

Maybe the man was sick and this was a way to treat him.

At home, he couldn’t concentrate.

His wife asked what was wrong.

Khalil said he was tired.

He went to bed but couldn’t sleep.

In the morning, he decided he had to check.

If he was wrong, and it really was a mannequin, then everything was fine.

If not, then something had to be done.

He called Al-Manssori and said that the system needed to be checked again and a new controller installed.

Al-Mansori agreed.

He set a time for the next day.

Khalil arrived in the afternoon.

Al-Mansori opened the door, let him in, and showed him to the gallery.

He left him to work.

Khalil pretended to be busy with the installation.

He waited for Al-Mansori to leave.

When he was alone, he approached the container.

He looked closely at the face.

The eyes were open.

They were looking at the ceiling.

Khalil tapped the glass quietly.

The eyes twitched.

They looked at him.

Khalil felt a chill in his chest.

It was definitely a living person.

He didn’t know what to do next.

It was impossible to free her right now.

The container was sealed, and he needed tools.

Even if he opened it, it was unclear what condition the person was in and whether she needed medical attention.

Al-Mansuri could return at any moment.

Khalil decided to proceed with caution.

He finished his work and left the gallery.

He told Al-Mansori that everything had been fixed.

He left.

In the car, he took out his phone.

He wanted to call the police.

Then he stopped.

He began to think about the consequences.

Al-Mansuri was a rich man, a villa on the outskirts, private property, an expensive collection.

People like that had connections.

Khalil was a foreign worker on a temporary visa.

It would be his word against that of a citizen with money and influence.

If the police came and found nothing suspicious or if Almensuri explained the situation differently, Khalil would find himself in an unpleasant situation.

He could be deported.

He could be accused of slander.

He decided to gather evidence first.

The next day, he bought a miniature camera.

It was a small device that could be hidden in a pocket or attached discreetly.

He called Al-Manssori again.

He said he needed to check how the new controller worked and take readings.

Al-Mansori agreed, but sounded less friendly.

He asked why another visit was necessary.

Khalil explained that it was standard procedure, a warranty check.

Al-Mansuri set a time.

Khalil arrived with the camera in his pocket.

Al-Mansori met him at the door.

This time, he did not let him in right away.

He asked a few questions about the job and the company Khalil worked for.

Khalil answered calmly, showed his documents, and explained the procedure.

Al-Mansori let him in, but this time he stayed nearby.

He did not leave the gallery.

He stood and watched the work.

Khalil turned on the camera in his pocket.

He checked the readings on the instruments and pretended that everything was fine.

Al-Mansuri stood a few meters away.

Khalil approached the container to check the temperature sensor.

The camera was pointed at the sarcophagus.

He recorded for a few minutes.

Then he walked away and finished the check.

Al-Mansuri escorted him to the exit.

This time he did not pay extra.

He just said goodbye and closed the door.

Khalil returned home and watched the recording.

The quality was average, but it was clear enough.

a wrapped figure in a container.

Tubes, wires, slow movement of the chest.

At one point, the eyes turned toward the camera.

It was clearly visible.

Khalil saved the file to a flash drive.

He made a copy.

Now he had evidence.

He went to the police station the next day.

The officer on duty listened to his story.

He asked to see the recording.

Khalil showed him the video on his phone.

The officer watched it and frowned.

He asked a few questions.

He wrote down the address of the villa.

He said he would pass the information on to the relevant department.

Khalil asked what would happen next.

The officer replied that he would be called in to testify if necessary.

Khalil left his contact details and left.

3 days passed.

No one called.

Khalil began to worry.

He called the station himself.

He was connected to another officer.

The officer said that the information was being verified and that it would take time.

Khalil asked how long.

The officer did not give a specific answer.

He said to wait.

A week later, Khalil received a call, but it was not from the police.

It was Al-Manssori.

He said there was a problem with the air conditioning system in another part of the house.

He asked Khalil to come.

Khalil felt uneasy.

This was no coincidence.

He refused saying he was busy with other jobs.

Al-Mansori insisted.

He offered double the pay.

Khalil refused again.

Al-Mansori raised his voice.

He said that Khalil was obliged to finish the job he had started, that he had a contract.

Khalil replied that there was no contract, only one-off calls.

He hung up.

That same evening, as Khalil was returning home from work, he was stopped by a car, a black SUV with tinted windows, two men got out of the car.

They were dressed in ordinary clothes, but carried themselves like security guards or bodyguards.

One of them asked if he was Ahmed Khalil.

Khalil confirmed that he was.

The man said they had some questions for him.

He asked him to get in the car.

Khalil refused.

He asked who they were.

The men did not answer.

One took out his phone and showed him a photo.

The photo was of Khalil near the Al-Manssuri villa.

The man said they needed to talk about the visit.

Khalil said he had already spoken to the police.

The men exchanged glances.

One said that it was not a matter for the police.

It was a private matter.

Khalil turned around and walked back.

The men did not follow him physically, but the car followed slowly behind him.

Khalil quickened his pace.

He turned onto a busy street.

The car did not follow him.

He reached the nearest subway station and went downstairs.

He checked to see if anyone was following him.

He took a detour to get home.

His wife asked why he was so late.

Khalil said he had been delayed at work.

He didn’t sleep that night.

He thought about what to do.

Al-Mansori clearly knew about his visit to the police.

either he had connections or the police had informed him themselves.

Khalil realized that it was dangerous to act through official channels.

He decided to try another approach.

The next day, he found the contact details of several investigative journalists online.

He wrote to a few of them.

Most did not respond.

One replied 3 days later.

He asked for more information.

Khalil sent part of the video without specifying the exact address.

The journalist replied that the material was interesting, but that more confirmation was needed.

Documents, witnesses, and additional evidence were required.

Khalil understood that he could not obtain more evidence without risk, but he could not leave things as they were either.

He began to watch the villa in the evenings.

He parked his car at a distance and observed through binoculars.

He recorded who arrived and who left.

Al-Mansuri rarely left.

Sometimes guests arrived in expensive cars.

They stayed inside for several hours.

Khalil wrote down the license plate numbers, but didn’t know what to do with them.

One evening, he saw a truck pull up to the villa.

It was a medium-sized van.

It stopped at the gate.

Khalil couldn’t see what was being unloaded, but the van stayed there for about half an hour.

Then it drove away.

Khalil tried to follow it, but lost it at a traffic light.

He wrote down the van’s license plate number.

Later, he tried to find information about the company that owned the vehicle.

It was a private logistics firm that transported special cargo.

A month had passed since his first visit to the villa.

Khalil continued to gather information, but there was no progress.

The journalists stopped responding to messages.

The police did not get in touch.

Khalil began to think that nothing would come of it, that Al-Mansori was too well protected to be stopped, that the woman in the sarcophagus would remain there until she died, if she wasn’t already dead.

Then something happened that changed the situation.

Khalil received a message from an unknown number.

It was a short text message in English.

The message read, “You asked about the villa.

I have information.

Let’s meet.

” Khalil did not respond immediately.

He thought it might be a trap.

Maybe Al-Mansor’s people wanted to lure him out, but curiosity was stronger than caution.

He replied, “Who are you?” The answer came an hour later.

“I worked in the same villa.

I know what’s going on there.

Khalil agreed to meet in a public place.

They chose a cafe in a shopping center.

Khalil arrived early.

He looked around.

He sat down at a table by the window.

He waited.

The man who arrived was young, about 25 years old.

He looked Indian.

He introduced himself as Rajesh.

He sat down opposite Khalil.

He ordered tea.

He began to speak quietly.

Rajesh had worked as a gardener at Al-Manssuri’s villa two years ago.

His duties included caring for the grounds and the plants inside the house.

Once he was asked to help move a heavy object in the gallery.

Rajes helped.

He saw the containers.

He asked what they were.

Al-Mansuri said they were part of an art collection.

Rajes asked no more questions.

He continued working.

A few months later, Rajes noticed something strange.

Sometimes he heard sounds coming from the gallery, muffled but distinct, like moans or screams.

He thought it was the sound of the ventilation system or equipment.

But one evening while cleaning the area near the gallery window, he looked inside.

He saw Almansuri near one of the containers.

Al-Mansori was doing something with the tubes.

The figure inside the container flinched.

Rajesh stepped back from the window.

Al-Mansori turned around and saw him.

He came out.

He asked Rajesh what he had seen.

Rajes said nothing.

He was just cleaning up trash.

Al-Mansuri looked at him for a long time.

Then he nodded.

He told him to finish his work and leave.

The next day, Rajes got a call from the company that hired him.

They said the contract with the villa had been terminated.

His services were no longer needed.

There was no explanation.

Rajes tried to find out the reason.

He was told that the client was dissatisfied with the quality of his work.

Rajes knew that wasn’t true.

He had done a good job.

He realized that Al-Mansuri had gotten rid of him because he had seen too much.

Rajes told Khalil this story.

He said that he had seen a mention of the villa in the news when he was searching for information on the internet.

He found a forum where people were discussing strange houses in Dubai.

Someone had posted about a villa with a private gallery and strange exhibits.

Rajes realized it was the same villa.

He started looking for more information.

He came across a post by Khalil on one of the forums where he was asking about a logistics company.

Rajes connected the dots.

he decided to get in touch.

Khalil asked if Rajesh was ready to testify.

Rajes said he was afraid, that he had a family, that he was also on a temporary visa, that he didn’t want any trouble, but he was willing to share information anonymously if it would help stop Al-Mansuri.

Khalil said he understood.

He asked if Rajes had any other details that might be useful.

Rajes remembered seeing a woman arrive at the villa once.

She was young and looked European.

She arrived in a taxi.

Al-Mansuri met her.

They went inside.

Rajesh didn’t see her again.

It was shortly before he heard the sounds from the gallery for the first time.

He didn’t remember the exact date, but it was 2 years ago in the summer.

Khalil wrote down this information.

He asked if Rajesh could remember anything else.

Rajes shook his head.

He said that was all he knew.

They exchanged contact details.

Rajes left first.

Khalil stayed behind.

He thought about what to do next.

Now he had a witness, albeit a reluctant one.

But that was still not enough for an official investigation.

He needed more compelling evidence.

He needed to get into the gallery again.

But how could he do that without risk? Khalil returned home and began looking for other ways.

He studied human rights laws in the UAE.

He looked for contacts at human rights organizations.

He found several international groups that dealt with similar cases.

He wrote to them.

He described the situation.

He sent a copy of the video.

He waited for a response.

The response came 2 weeks later.

A representative of one of the organizations wrote that the material was indeed disturbing, but that more specific data was needed to launch an official investigation.

The victim’s identity was needed.

Medical reports were needed.

Expert testimony was needed.

The organization was willing to help, but only if the necessary evidence was gathered.

Khalil realized he had reached a dead end.

He had the video.

He had the witness.

But it wasn’t enough.

The system was working against him.

Rich people were protected.

Foreign workers had no voice.

He almost decided to give up.

He almost convinced himself that he had done everything he could.

But then he remembered the eyes of that woman in the container, how they looked at him, how they asked for help without words, and he couldn’t stop.

He decided to try again, a more risky plan.

Khalil decided to act directly.

He contacted the Russian consulate in Dubai.

He explained the situation to the officer on duty.

He said that the alleged victim might be a Russian citizen.

He showed the video.

The employee listened carefully and asked him to leave a copy of the materials and his contact details.

Khalil expected to be asked to wait again.

But this time, the reaction was different.

3 days later, he received a call from the consulate.

They asked him to come in to give a detailed statement.

Khalil arrived.

He was met by a consular officer named Soolof and an employee from the legal department.

They asked specific questions.

They wrote down his answers.

They watched the video several times.

They asked him to clarify details about the villa, the timing of the visits, and Al-Manssori’s behavior.

Khalil answered as accurately as possible.

Sov explained that several months ago, the family of a missing girl had contacted the consulate, Elizabetha Veronova, 27 years old, an influencer from Moscow.

The last contact was in July 2023.

At that time, she wrote to her mother that she was in Dubai for work.

After that, contact was lost.

Her phone was not answering.

Her social media profiles were no longer being updated.

The family filed a report with the police in Russia.

The Russian police sent a request to the UAE.

The local police conducted a formal investigation, found nothing and closed the case as a voluntary disappearance.

The family did not give up.

They contacted the consulate directly.

The consulate launched its own investigation, but without any concrete leads, there was no progress.

Now information has come from Khalil.

Sov said that the consulate would act through diplomatic channels.

They would send an official request to the UAE police demanding that they check the villa.

That the presence of consular representatives during the inspection is mandatory under international law when it comes to a possible victim from Russia.

The process took another 2 weeks.

Khalil did not know the details of the negotiations, but Sokov kept him informed of the general situation.

The local authorities resisted.

Al-Mansuri had connections in government circles.

His family was influential, but the pressure from the Russian consulate was strong.

In addition, international human rights organizations to which Khalil had previously sent information got involved.

They launched a public campaign on social media.

The story of a possible victim of human trafficking in Dubai began to spread in the media.

As a result, the UAE authorities agreed to conduct an investigation.

On October 23rd, 2023, a group of police officers accompanied by a representative of the Russian consulate arrived at Al-Manssuri’s villa.

Khalil was not there, but later learned the details from the official report and from Solof.

Al-Manssori greeted the police calmly.

He let them in without objection.

He showed them the documents for the house.

He explained that he was an art collector and knew nothing about the missing Russian woman.

The police asked to inspect the premises.

Al-Mansuri agreed.

He showed them around the house.

He showed them the living room, kitchen, and bedrooms.

When they reached the gallery, he explained that it was a private collection.

The police insisted on inspecting it.

Al-Mansori opened the door.

Inside the gallery, the officers saw several glass containers along the walls.

Al-Mansori explained each one as a work of art.

He mentioned the names of the artists and the concepts behind the works.

The police approached the container where Voronova was located.

The consulate representative asked to open the sarcophagus.

Al-Manssouri refused.

He said that it would damage the exhibit, that the work was sealed and required special conditions.

The senior officer did not argue.

He ordered the container to be opened by force.

A technician from the group began working on the locks and seals.

Al-Mansori tried to protest.

He threatened to file complaints.

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