Shuyin tilted her head, studying him the way a scientist might study an insect, with clinical interest but no real compassion, no emotional investment in whether the specimen lived or died.
"I'm what prison creates, Zeyan," she said softly, each word precisely enunciated. "I'm what happens when you take everything from someone and expect them to come back broken and grateful for whatever scraps you might throw at them."
She took a single step toward him, and he actually flinched.
Actually scrambled backward against the wall like a cornered animal, his expensive shoes scraping against the marble floor.
The mighty Lu Zeyan, heir to a business empire, was reduced to cowering on his own office floor by a woman he'd once thought he could control.
"You wanted to know what happened to me in there?" Shuyin continued, her voice carrying that same dangerous quiet that was somehow more terrifying than any scream. "You wanted to understand what changed?"
She took another step.
