Unable to persuade me, Lucas arranged for me to work at a dessert shop instead. Knowing my love for sweets and baking, he even hired a pastry chef to teach me. On my first day, he came to pick me up after work, but I slipped out the back door.
The shop was close to home, just two alleys away. But even in that short distance, I encountered danger. Young men wearing baseball caps jumped off their motorbikes and kicked me to the ground. I screamed, trembling with pain and struggled to get up when a high-heeled shoe pressed on my hand.
In front of me stood Sharon, her white legs looking impossibly long and menacing. Her expression was one of cold satisfaction as she watched me writhe in pain.
"Helena, do you think telling on me to Lucas will make him love you and marry you? You think running to Lucas will save you?" she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. "You’re even more pathetic than I thought."
Sharon continued, “Yes, I did arrange with the doctor to have you ‘disciplined,’ but don’t forget, it was Lucas who insisted on sending you to the mental hospital.”