Charity did not leave her room that morning. In fact, she hadn't moved an inch since Absalom had left about an hour ago, so she didn't even care when she heard the incessant knocking on the door. Or the intrusion into the room. Whether it was him, she couldn't care less, so she just lay with her head tucked beneath the covers. She couldn't stop replaying what he said to her. An investment? She was an investment?
It hurt even more because it made sense that he treated her in such a manner. The story was just too good to be true and now she was learning the hard way that fairytales did not exist in real life.
When she heard the door click shut, she shrugged off the covers; her gaze settling on the clock hanging opposite her bed.
10:45 am, her stomach rumbled, and she scoffed in response. How can she feel hungry in such a situation?
