He lured me to an abandoned clinic in the suburbs.
Together with that punk, they used my life—and my child's—as an offering to Charlotte.
"Charlotte going alone is too lonely. You and the baby can keep her company."
…
"Brooklyn, you're crying?" Bella asked, panicked, handing me a tissue.
My voice came out hoarse. "Just tired. Charlotte's on duty tonight—have security keep an eye on things."
Bella nodded and muttered, "Brooklyn, Charlotte just brought her thug friend into the changing room again."
"He almost saw us half-naked. I told her that wasn't appropriate, and she just rolled her eyes at me."
I looked toward the end of the hallway.
A tall figure slipped past, the tattoos on his arms looking fierce and wild.
Before, I would've rushed over without hesitation. I would've driven him out and enforced the rules on the spot.
But now, I slowly sat back down.
I took a sip of the red date ginger tea my brother made for me and said flatly, "Those who dig their own graves will fall into them eventually. As for everything else—see less, say less, get involved less."
Bella froze, then smiled and nodded. "Got it. I'm heading home first. You should rest early too."