I sold myself. To him—the stranger who stopped by for the night at our provincial hotel on a stormy evening. But I didn’t know who, exactly, my buyer would turn out to be. I sold my virginity and my beauty in exchange for a chance to escape poverty and the cruelty of my stepmother, along with her husband. Now I support the most influential man in the country. Or rather—he supports me? No. In truth, I’m just an object. No right to love, motherhood, or freedom.
When I’m no longer useful to him, they’ll simply kill me.
The first book is “A Mistress for the President.”