Mikhail
"Is your phone on?"
Maria looks up from her breakfast but doesn't answer me. Her expression is hesitant, with a dash of resentment, as her spoon hovers over her cereal. I frown at the glutinous mess of oatmeal clinging to it, and her gaze shifts down before she quickly shoves it in her mouth.
"How's your stomach feeling?" I ask, checking my watch as if the time is more important than her. Maria has on the simple white dress the staff wears, and I wonder if she's trying to make a statement that I treat her more like them than as an equal.
"Why?" She watches me with her big hazel eyes. Despite everything, that innocence hasn't completely left her yet, but it will. After her father dies, she'll have to learn how to survive on her own.
I learned, and she will too.
"You had a roug
