I stood at the bottom of the stairs, expression blank.
Then turned and walked toward the storage room at the end of the hall.
Elisa always claimed the "poor sour smell" on me was too heavy—that I wasn't worthy of sleeping in the master bedroom. I'd been relegated to the guest room. Often, the couch.
I pulled a battered tin box from under the guest bed.
Inside lay my only real possessions—relics from the orphanage. The expensive clothes Elisa had "bestowed" upon me to play the role of her well-dressed accessory? I left them where they hung.
I walked out just as Elisa and Kevin emerged from the master bedroom. They stood on the second-floor landing, staring down at me with cold contempt.
"Adam Mason, what trouble are you trying to stir up now?" Elisa clutched her silk robe.
I ignored her. Headed straight for the front door.
Her temper ignited. She grabbed a vase from a side table and hurled it.
*Crash.*
I sidestepped. Porcelain shattered against the floor where I'd stood a heartbeat before. I turned back. Looked up.
Checked my phone.
Three minutes.
The three-year agreement hadn't ended yet.
"Nothing." My voice was calm. "Just going out for a walk."