My eyes traveled back to Eva. She looked as pale as a ghost.
"Sir, please… have mercy," she pleaded, falling to her knees.
"You know the rules. You have two minutes to get out of my house," he commanded, not even sparing her a glance as he walked away.
I immediately stood up and hurried to Eva, who was crying. I couldn't even touch her—my hands were burning, and the pain and guilt inside me were too heavy to bear.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
She raised her head. Wiping her tears, she said,
"You don't have to apologize, ma'am… I'll start packing immediately, then face my trial."
I frowned. Trial?
"Eva, what do you mean by trial?" I asked, worried. She smiled bitterly.
"If you get fired under any circumstances, two of your fingers will be chopped off— from each hand."
My hands flew to my mouth, and I gasped, eyes widening.
"Why?" I breathed in horror.
"It's a reminder never to betray him," she said, sadness clouding her eyes.
