"Pearl Sanchez is spoiled. Arrogant. Insufferable. Kathy accidentally damaged one painting, and Pearl made her grovel as a maid for three days."
"Someone that entitled needed to be taught a lesson. And look—three years of punishment, and it worked, didn't it?"
His voice dripped with pride. Satisfaction.
As if his little experiment had reformed me. Made me a better person.
Bertram sighed and swallowed whatever he'd been about to say.
There were things he hadn't told Austin.
That day, I had knelt.
I had unbuttoned my own blouse.
"Just five hundred dollars. Please. I'm begging you."
"Austin is sick in prison. He needs medical care. I'm five hundred short."
They had exchanged glances—then burst out laughing.
"Is this really the Pearl Sanchez we used to know?"
"You were so proud back then. Wouldn't wear shoes that cost less than a thousand. Now you're selling yourself for five hundred?"
I could only kneel there and take it. My face betrayed nothing.
What expression was I supposed to wear?
Every shred of pride, every ounce of dignity—ground into dust by reality.
"If you're willing to pay more..."
My voice broke.
"I'll pose however you want."
Their laughter only grew louder.