Vomiting had become a regular part of my routine, and now, with my phone snapped in half, all and any connection I had with him was severed.
I had no idea what the test results were or what the diagnosis might be. But I had no time to wallow in my own misery.
I sat slumped beside the toilet, the cold tiles beneath me offering little comfort. The room was still spinning slightly, and though my stomach had finally settled, the bitter taste of bile lingered in my mouth.
I sighed and got to my feet, steadying myself on the sink. Looking into the mirror, I barely recognized the reflection staring back.
My skin was paler than usual, dark circles framed my eyes, and I looked thinner—far thinner than when I was dating Mason.
I flushed the toilet, wiped and rinsed my mouth, and leaned against the doorframe, my mind swirling with thoughts.
Working here meant cutting off any ties with my family, and as much as these fucking bastards knew my name and my reputation, but they remained oblivious to the depths of my resolve.
If I played my cards right and acted like a harmless lapdog, maybe they wouldn't see me as a threat. After all, this wasn't my first rodeo.
I have endured worse situations as an undercover cop, and I could adapt. I could survive.
The soft buzz of the city outside my window was a reminder of just how isolated I was in this penthouse.
Armando had dropped me off a day ago, leaving me to pick up "the boss" from the airport, but soon I realized he lied to me.
They were most definitely already watching my every move. Isolating me, pushing me to the edge so I'd crack.
It was a game—one I'd played before. But they didn't know me, and I wasn't the type to break easily.
I would allow them to think they could manipulate me—play me like a violin, but the moment I had what I needed, I would slip away into the night.
I turned off the bathroom light, and examined the space they'd given me.
My room was luxurious, with a plush bed that offered too much comfort for a mere servant.
The view from the window overlooked the city's skyline—good, but not as grand as the master bedroom's. It was enough to keep me satisfied for now.
But I knew there were eyes on me, hidden cameras no doubt scattered throughout the room, watching my every move.
I had rummaged through the wardrobe earlier and noted it had been stocked with uniforms—standard black-and-white attire for serving.
