Tomorrow. The word sent a chill down my spine. Working with the slaves on the site, among criminals and laborers, frightened me even more.
The maid left, and I stared at the food with no appetite, but I recalled her words and decided to fill my stomach.
Throughout the night, I found it hard to sleep, and when morning came, the door to my room opened, and two guards walked in.
“Get up, we’re taking you to the site,” they ordered. I obeyed and followed them.
Finally, we arrived at a large iron door at the far end of the mansion, leading outside to the worksite. As the doors opened, a rush of noise hit me—men and women laboring in the dirt, lifting stones, hammering, and shouting instructions. I caught sight of their worn, exhausted faces and the filth caked on their hands and clothes. My
