HOPE
I stood there, glaring at him with pure contempt. I wished I could report him and the master for their crimes. I wasn’t an object. None of us in the master’s house were objects to be exchanged between rich criminals.
I used to dream of working at the Mason enterprise. But just a few days ago, I discovered that the image he projected to the world was nothing more than a shadow of his true self. He was a criminal. And anyone associated with the master was just as guilty.
“I can see the anger burning in your eyes,” he said, studying me. “How did it feel running for hours thinking you could escape from me?”
He was provoking me on purpose. I could feel it.
I squeezed my fists tightly around the fabric of my dress to stop myself from hitting him.
“You should be the one telling me how
