Just because someone seemed kind, didn’t mean they could be trusted.

“Kids don’t run away from homes because they’re poor, they run away because they need to escape something. Rich kids can need to escape, too.

Sofia turned the page in her book, trying to stay focused on the fictional lives it contained inside. In the windowless basement, there was rarely any indication that the outside world existed. No mingling of voices, no whoosh of passing trucks or honking of cars, just the occasional hum and rattle of the exposed pipes. Until now.

After all that had happened to her, all she’d just recently experienced—kidnapping, rape, beatings, having her virginity stolen—Sofia didn’t know for sure that Emma had been a virgin, but it seemed likely —after all that, the girl appeared most shocked about having to relieve herself in a bucket.

Only when she was immersed in a book was she able to completely forget about her circumstances.

“You want the girl back. But you might not find her if someone with power is thwarting your efforts. So, you improvise until you figure out who to trust. Basically, until you know who you can trust, you trust no one.”

His forced jovial attitude had disappeared. Some things were harder to pretend through than others.

“I have to pee first, or I might wet myself. And no one here tonight has asked for that . . . yet.” She smirked to hide her hatred.

“Can’t trust rich people. They’re the best liars. They’re not worried because they always get away with it. That’s what makes them lie so good.”

Things aren’t always what they appear to be. And neither are people.