It just happened.
I finished an outdoor photoshoot with a small influencer, Grace Evans. The results were quite impressive. Rushing back under the blazing sun, I was eager to tell him two pieces of good news.
The first was that the photos I took of Grace last time went viral online. Many people were asking for my contact information under her video, wanting to schedule a shoot with me. I've already arranged a shoot this afternoon with one of those review influencers. My reputation is growing. We'll soon have enough money for our wedding.
The second was that my biological parents found me through a DNA sample I had left before. I'm no longer someone without a family.
The moment I returned to the apartment, Ryan Carter looked at me, carrying the camera, and dropped a bombshell.
My mind was a mess. I wanted to call someone for help or to get someone to open the door. But after searching for a while, I realized Ryan had already taken my phone. There were no other electronic devices in the room.
I tried to open the window, hoping to get out that way, but it was futile. The apartment is a one-bedroom unit. For safety, the landlord had installed security bars on every window, making it impossible to leave through the bedroom window. Besides, we were on the eleventh floor.
I shouted out the window for a while until my throat was dry, but there was no response. It hit me that it was a Monday afternoon. The community mostly housed working-class people. There were few people around during the workday, let alone up on the eleventh floor. It was impossible to attract anyone's attention. Plus, my throat was already parched, and there was no water in the bedroom. I needed to conserve my energy and moisture.
Still, refusing to give up, I searched the bedroom again for any handy tools, but found nothing. During this, my wrist brushed against the nightstand, reminding me of my watch. Sadly, ever since Ryan had saved up for a month to buy me this mechanical watch back in college, I hadn’t worn a smart watch.
It was now 2 p.m., just thirty minutes before my appointment with the review influencer.
I finished an outdoor photoshoot with a small influencer, Grace Evans. The results were quite impressive. Rushing back under the blazing sun, I was eager to tell him two pieces of good news.
The first was that the photos I took of Grace last time went viral online. Many people were asking for my contact information under her video, wanting to schedule a shoot with me. I've already arranged a shoot this afternoon with one of those review influencers. My reputation is growing. We'll soon have enough money for our wedding.
The second was that my biological parents found me through a DNA sample I had left before. I'm no longer someone without a family.
The moment I returned to the apartment, Ryan Carter looked at me, carrying the camera, and dropped a bombshell.
My mind was a mess. I wanted to call someone for help or to get someone to open the door. But after searching for a while, I realized Ryan had already taken my phone. There were no other electronic devices in the room.
I tried to open the window, hoping to get out that way, but it was futile. The apartment is a one-bedroom unit. For safety, the landlord had installed security bars on every window, making it impossible to leave through the bedroom window. Besides, we were on the eleventh floor.
I shouted out the window for a while until my throat was dry, but there was no response. It hit me that it was a Monday afternoon. The community mostly housed working-class people. There were few people around during the workday, let alone up on the eleventh floor. It was impossible to attract anyone's attention. Plus, my throat was already parched, and there was no water in the bedroom. I needed to conserve my energy and moisture.
Still, refusing to give up, I searched the bedroom again for any handy tools, but found nothing. During this, my wrist brushed against the nightstand, reminding me of my watch. Sadly, ever since Ryan had saved up for a month to buy me this mechanical watch back in college, I hadn’t worn a smart watch.
It was now 2 p.m., just thirty minutes before my appointment with the review influencer.
Caught In His Lies： Reclaiming My Life And Love.
Completed | Natalie Peterson