“Shall we find out?” When he held a cell phone in front of my face, my heart sank at the sight of its sparkly white case. It was mine. I thought it was long gone with my coat, but I knew now, he always had it. He clicked on a draft message written to my papa to show me the video in the text box. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be happening to me. Panic expanded in my lungs, clawing and biting at the flesh. My grip tightened around the armrests so hard it hurt. “Please don’t,” I begged. His thumb hovered over the send button. “And what will you do for me?” I understood the insinuation in his voice. Tears ran down my cheeks, my chest heaving with the impossibility of the situation. I was torn in two different directions, but I knew even surrendering my body would be better than my papa seeing that video. “Anything,” I cried. “Pll do anything you want.” “The problem is,” he said softly, nuzzling his face against my hair, “I’ve already seen it all.” His words turned cold and careless. “The novelty has worn off.” With one press of his finger, the sound of a message sending hit my ears. My heart dropped to the floor, and I barely heard the toneless, “Whoops,” he taunted against my ear like it was merely an accident, before pulling away from me. Acid climbed up my throat, and then I leaned over and threw up everything in my stomach onto the Persian rug. He lowered to his haunches in front of me and wiped some puke from my bottom lip with his thumb. “What am I going to do with you, kotyonok?” He was no longer a conundrum wearing Versace, indifferent to the blood on his pants and my vomit on his hand. He was a monster dressed like a gentleman. I brought my tear-filled gaze to his and said three words I’d never said before. “I hate you.” He smiled. “Took you long enough.”