In the dim light, Lucas's eyes burned with fury.
He released his grip on my jaw, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. With a single sharp motion, he slapped it against the arm of the sofa beside me.
Then he slumped onto the other end of the couch, leaving me stunned.
I picked up the paper with trembling hands, a foreboding weight settling over me.
As I unfolded it, the bold words at the top sliced through me like a dagger: **"Contract of Sale."**
My breath hitched, and I froze. Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.
So that's how Daniel paid off his 3-million-dollar gambling debt. He sold me.
The paper bore his signature and bloody thumbprint.
Everything started to make sense—Lucas's cryptic remarks about me owing him more than a drink, Daniel's wariness around Lucas, and the offhand comments about "green hats" that Lucas had thrown my way.