The anonymous invitation that someone slipped under my door promises $1,000. Just for meeting a man downtown, in a public place, no questions asked.
I can make more than I ever imagined if I agree to take part in a competition.
Just get into the limousine. Just get on the private plane. Just fly to an airstrip at the foot of the largest, most luxurious estate I’ve ever seen. Just stay the first night, then another. Tell no one where I’ve gone, or why.
Everything in me screams to run away.
The rules say I can leave whenever I want.
So why am I still here?
