Chapter Six

Mikhail Ivanshov.

A knock sounded on my door and for a second I thought it was the cleaner girl coming back to apologise for wetting my bed and practically messing up my room, but I had seen her leaving the building from my windows.

A pang of guilt hit me but I quickly shove it aside. I don't have time for petty things like this and arguments with cleaners. I hardly even came in contact with them because of this. They were rude, arrogant and proud even though they had nothing. 

My father had taught me that poor people had the biggest ego. 

I suddenly didn't feel bad for what I had done to the girl, I smirked but frowned once more when the trail of dirty water reached my foot. 

This is disgusting. 

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