Sedition by Alicia Cameron Read Free Book Online Page B

gotten involved in the first place, but I can’t bring myself to sell him.
    Over the next few days, I make a point of leaving before he awakes, staying late at the office and avoiding Sascha at dinner time. He works hard and keeps the house in perfect order. He acts like the perfect slave, but I don’t want the perfect slave. I want Sascha, the Sascha who was starting to come out of his shell, the Sascha who used to melt under my hands. I watch him at home, when I think he’s not looking, but all I see on his face is hatred and wariness. I ruined it; it is my responsibility to fix it.
    After careful planning, I come home from work at a reasonable hour and gather my materials as meticulously as I would for a business meeting. In a way, it is a business meeting, just with a different sort of partner. Sascha’s in his room where he’s been avoiding me lately. I knock on his door.
    He takes a few seconds longer than I expect. When he answers, his voice is polite and detached.
    “Yes, master?” he calls through the door.
    He doesn’t even bother to get up to answer it, which annoys me. “I’m coming in,” I tell him. He doesn’t respond.
    When I enter, he’s looking down, trying to hide the glare. He must not realize that the rest of his body is all but telling me to go to hell. But at least he still feels something for me.
    “Lose the attitude,” I order. It’s harsh, but I know I risk losing my temper if he gives me attitude. I throw my tablet at him, feeling guilty as he flinches away.
    “Read this,” I order. “I’ll answer any questions you have.”
    He takes a minute, maybe being scared, maybe being defiant, but he finally begins to read through the page I’ve left open on my tablet. I would have flashed the information over to his as usual, but the information on the screen is so highly and heavily secured that it is only ever visible from my tablet. I watch him becoming interested in it as he reads.
    The documents tell my whole story, as I told it to the federal and international investigators so many years ago. Sascha seems annoyed as he starts to read it, but he looks up at me with interest as he quickly puts the pieces together.
    “This was you?” he asks, shocked.
    I nod.
    He stares at me for a moment, then looks back to the tablet with renewed interest, studying it intensely. “But, it says your name is Donovan Miller?”
    “My first name was Donovan,” I explain, shrugging. “After my father. I’ve gone by my middle name since before I can remember. And my last name was Miller. Keep reading. I was disinherited, stripped of my name, and forbidden from discussing ‘trade secrets’—basically, anything about the re-education centers.”
    Sascha looks up at me, eyes wide.
    “She’s your mother?” he asks, shocked. “Kristine Miller is your mother? That woman who came over here… she is the head of the Miller System?”
    “Yes,” I reply. “I was supposed to follow in the family business. I knew it inside and out, all the methods, all the rationale, all the shortcomings.”
    “This is your big secret, then,” he says slowly, putting everything together. “I asked about her when you told me about your research. Well, when you told me about half of your research.”
    I nod. It is my secret. The one I refused to tell him about, time and again. The one I beat him for. Admitting what I’ve done shouldn’t be this difficult, but as Sascha puts together how often I’ve lied to him, the hurt is evident on his face.
    “Your research more than suggests that harsh treatment results in subpar slaves,” he reminds me. “So why did you treat me like that? Sometimes, you’d just ignore me, but other times… it was like being back there. In one of the re-education centers.”
    “In my family, slaves were business products, not pets, and they knew their place. A slave like you would have been broken, but I’ve never wanted to break you. I chose to ignore you instead, and perhaps that was