A glass of water.
A blanket.
A book from the shelf.
Clara knew what he was doing.
He was testing her.
But what confused her was that behind all his cruelty, she saw something else.
Loneliness.
There were moments when Don Baste thought she wasn’t looking.
Moments when his angry expression disappeared and his eyes looked painfully empty.
One afternoon, Clara walked into the mansion’s library and found him staring at an old photograph.
It was a picture of a younger man.
A handsome man.
A man standing beside a woman who looked like his mother.
For a brief second, Clara saw sadness on his face.
Then he quickly covered it.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped.
Clara stepped back.
“I was just looking for a book.”
“You should learn not to enter rooms without permission.”
“I’m sorry.”
She turned to leave.
But before she reached the door, she heard him quietly say:
“Do you really think I’m a monster?”
