Chapter 1: You Only Take Orders From MeEmily CarterBeing poor had always lived in my bones, poverty was the language of my childhood, something I wore like a second skin, I grew up with nothing, lost my parents with nothing, and for years believed I would die carrying the same emptiness, but life had its own twisted sense of humour, very funny actually, a bitter chuckle forming on my lips as I remembered how cruel it had beenBecause here I was now, miles away from the home that never felt like one, sipping wine in my own kitchen, the warmth of the glass seeping into my palms, music playing softly as I danced barefoot on polished tiles I had paid for in cash, the gentle echo under my feet grounding me, this was it, I mean, I believed this was it, a shaky thrill running through meI had escaped, I had rebuilt, and I had peace, a fragile, shimmering bubble of peaceAt least, I thought I did, my chest tightening slightly at the thoughtMy six-year-old son, Seth, came rushing in, breath
Zuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-03-30
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