The Luna Choosing Game by Jane Above Story novel Chapter 265

Chapter 0265 

While the princes were giving interviews with the camera crews, Terry and a few of his servants 

escorted the candidates, including myself, on a tour of his mansion. 

When the plan had been suggested, I had seen the worry in both Nicholas’s and Julian’s gazes, but their 

concern was merely blinding them to the benefits of such a move. If I could take the tour, perhaps Terry 

would show us to some of his more private offices. And if I could sl*p away… 

I tried to convey as such with my eyes, unable to privately speak with Nicholas and Julian, but my efforts 

only seemed to double their worry. I wouldn’t be waylaid from my plan, however. This was the reason we 

had even pushed to have this event. 

We needed the dirt on Terry, and this was the perfect way to find it. 

Terry led the way, with the candidates behind, and the servants following. I had hoped there would be 

enough of us that I would have a chance to sl*p away. As it was, Terry kept me in his shadow. He touched 

my wrist when I dared stray too far from his side. 

The gleam in his eyes made me nervous to openly disobey, almost like that was what he wanted me to 

do, so that he could put into practice his promise of… breaking me. 

I shuddered at the thought. I could only imagine the horrors of what that would entail. From what it 

sounded like, my consent was not a part of the equation. 

Finally, after several long minutes of waiting for Terry’s guard to drop, Jessica stopped him and asked 

about one of the artworks. 

“Is this real? These brushstrokes look fake,” she said. 

Terry’s entire face went red with outrage. “I can assure you this is legitimate, young lady.” 

He walked closer to her and the artwork in question. He reached out, tracing the lines of the 

brushstrokes without actually touching the painting. 

“This is his early work. If you look/closer here…” 

Step by step, I backed up until I was even with the servants. None of them looked at me. None seemed 

to notice or care when I stepped behind them. 

By heart hammered all the way up into my throat as I continued to move backwards until I was near a corner of a hallway. Then, just as I reached it, I turned and darted down the hall. 

Terry hadn’t shown us down this hallway. I had no idea where I was going. But this was the only good 

People tended not to ask too many questions when hit with that excuse. 

I ducked my head into every open door. I found many bedrooms, some closets or storage rooms, a few 

sitting rooms, and then finally an office. 

After sweeping my gaze across the office to make sure it was empty, I ducked inside. 

The desk was immaculately clean, with every pen in its place and no stray papers in sight. 

I opened the drawers, found one filled with manila folders, and began fl*pping through them. They all seemed innocuous: copies of electric and water bills, a statement from an internet provider, an estimate 

for next year’s insurance information. 

The paperwork was mostly signed by Terry’s accountant, which made me wonder if this was even Terry’s office at all. The walls were trimmed in gold, but I was learning from the tour that Terry trimmed 

most things in gold, even rooms he rarely visited. 

Terry’s pride seemed to be directly connected to his decadence. So this room could easily be his accountant’s office, or just an office used to store paperwork. 

The other drawers turned up similar results. One drawer held a fancy paperweight with no papers underneath. The drawer nearest the desktop was filled with meticulously arranged pens and notepads. 

Nothing was written on the notepads. The pens were all symmetrical and identical. They gave nothing 

away. 

With a sigh, I realized this room was likely a bust. Nothing here seemed to be incriminating in the slightest. Or, if it was, I would need an accounting degree to be able to tell. I was good with numbers, but 

not that good. 

I made my way to the door. Maybe I still had time to check another room before my absence would be noticed enough for me to be actively looked for. My bathroom excuse would only carry me so far. After 

an hour, people might stop believing. 

When I came close to the door, suddenly, it slammed shut. A lock turned. I heard footsteps walk away. 

I froze and held my breath, scared even the sound of breathing too loudly would bring back whoever it 

was that closed the door. 

I waited for a long moment for all sounds to cease, and then I waited a minute more to be safe. 

Then I went to the door. When I had heard the lock, I hadn’t panicked, expecting there to be a knob to turn on the inside. There’was no lock on the inside. The only thing on the door handle was a keyhole. No 

other locks were on the door. 

I tried the handle anyway. Maybe I had been hearing things. Yet when I turned the doorknob, it clattered and would not open. The door was locked. 

I was trapped.