THE MAFIA'S SLAVE

TER

all shuffled out of the room, standing in a line. The man looked at us, one by one. 'You,' he said, pointing to the woman next to me. 'How tall are you

?' he asked. I told him, trying to keep my voice steady. He looked me up

est of you, go back to your rooms.' I felt relief wash over me, but also guilt. I was glad that I wasn't chosen, but I felt bad for the women w

omen. I wanted to help them, but I didn't know how. I knew I had to do something, but I didn't know what. I lay awake, tossing and t

ok a deep breath, then opened it. The man who owned the house was standing there, looking at me with a stern expression. 'I need to know your nam

stions as honestly as I could. I tried to stay calm, but I was terrified. I had no idea what he was going to do with this information. Would he use it against me? Or

thing in his eyes. Something like longing, or sadness. It was only for a moment, but it made me wonder. Why was he looking at me like that? Did he fee

nner,' he said. My heart sank. I knew what this meant. I had to prepare the food and serve it to him. I followed the servant to the kitchen, where I started cooking

ngry. And I didn't want to make him angry. So I took my time, making sure that everything was perfect. I prepared the dishes with care, hoping that they wo

stood back. He began to eat, and I watched him carefully. I held my breath, waiting for his reaction. And then, he looked up at me. 'This