Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
I started to rise from my chair, my legs shaky beneath me. But Mrs. Tompkins’s next words froze me in place.
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Andrea,” she said, her tone eerily calm. “Selecta has already assumed guardianship over you, in accordance with our powers under the corporate laws.”
The air left my lungs in a rush, as if I’d been punched in the gut. Guardianship? What did that even mean?
Mrs. Tompkins must have seen the panic in my eyes, because her lips curved into a smile that was probably meant to be reassuring but only sent chills down my spine.
“Now, now,” she said. “There’s no need to worry. We have your best interests at heart.”
She gestured toward the door of the office, and for the first time, I noticed the man standing there. He was tall and beefy, dressed in a crisp security uniform. A holstered gun hung at his hip.
“That’s Officer Porter,” Mrs. Tompkins explained. “He’s here to ensure your safety and compliance.”
My eyes widened as I took in the guard’s imposing figure. Earlier, when I’d first entered the building, I’d barely registered his presence. In fact, I’d felt a flicker of relief at the sight of him, assuming he was there to protect us from the rising crime rates that everyone said plagued the city.
Now, though, that sense of security evaporated like morning dew in the harsh light of day. Officer Porter wasn’t here to protect me. He was here to contain me.
I felt my breath coming faster, my chest rising and falling rapidly as panic set in. The room seemed to shrink around me, the walls pressing in. The faint scent of lemon cleaner that had seemed so innocuous before now felt cloying, suffocating.
“You can’t do this,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “It’s… it’s illegal. I have rights.”
Mrs. Tompkins let out a soft chuckle, the sound grating against my frayed nerves. “Oh, Andrea,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m afraid you signed those rights away when you agreed to our terms and conditions.”
My mind raced, trying to remember the mountain of legalese I’d scrolled through without reading. Had I really agreed to this? To be shipped off to some backwards town, to live a life I’d never wanted?
I looked from Mrs. Tompkins to Officer Porter and back again, feeling like a trapped animal.
My legs felt like lead as I followed Mrs. Tompkins out of her office and down the hallway. The sterile white walls felt ever more confining with each step. At the end of the hallway, Mrs. Tompkins gestured to a small waiting area tucked into an alcove. “You can wait here until your bus arrives,” she said, her tone brisk and efficient. “There are refreshments available if you’d like.”
I nodded mutely, sinking into one of the simple plastic chairs. A coffee table in front of me held a tray of pastries. I saw a coffee machine in a nook nearby. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, incongruously comforting.
As Mrs. Tompkins’s receded down the hallway, I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My mind raced, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened. How had a simple job search led to this?
I poured myself a cup of coffee with trembling hands, more for something to do than out of any real desire for caffeine. The warmth of the mug was grounding at least, giving me something tangible to focus on as my thoughts spiraled.
What would happen to me in Cato? The name itself sounded oppressive, conjuring images of stern-faced men and subservient women. Would I really be expected to be nothing more than a housemaid, a homemaker? The thought made my skin crawl.
And yet… a traitorous part of my mind whispered that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. To have a clear purpose, to know exactly what was expected of me. No more endless job searches, no more feeling lost and alone in the vast, uncaring city.
I shook my head violently, trying to dislodge those dangerous thoughts. This wasn’t me. I was Andrea Jacobsen, feminist, independent woman. I didn’t need a man to take care of me. I didn’t want to be subservient.
Did I?
The coffee turned bitter in my mouth as doubt gnawed at me. I set the mug down, my stomach churning. I had to get out of here. I had to think, if only just to clear my head.
I glanced around the waiting area, my heart racing. The receptionist was engrossed in her computer screen, fingers flying across the keyboard. Officer Porter stood at attention by the main entrance, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Mrs. Tompkins was nowhere to be seen.
This was my chance.
I set my coffee mug down with exaggerated care, wincing at the soft clink as it met the table. Neither the receptionist nor Porter reacted. Slowly, I rose from my chair, willing it not to squeak. My legs felt like jelly beneath me, threatening to give way with each step.