Elena’s POV I paid the taxi driver with the last of my cash and stepped out onto the gravel driveway, my paint bag slung over one shoulder. The mansion loomed in front of me, huge and old, with lights glowing in some of the windows. My stomach was doing that nervous flip it always does before something important. This has to go well, I thought. Mom’s next hospital payment is due in two weeks, and my part time jobs aren’t even covering groceries anymore. A tall man was waiting by the big wooden door. He looked exactly like the kind of person who owned a place like this, expensive black shirt, broad shoulders, the kind of quiet confidence that made me feel small without even trying. When his eyes met mine, I felt suddenly aware of my cheap dress and scuffed sneakers. “You must be Elena,” he said in a deep voice. “I’m Damien Voss, come inside.” His hand touched my lower back as he guided me in. The touch sent a strange warmth up my spine. I nodded quickly and followed him through t
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