Vertigo's eyes filled with hope and she nodded quickly. "Thank you. Thank you," she whispered, bowing her head and holding her wrist against her chest. "Thank you so much..." For her hand, for not killing her, for taking care of her.
God, she hated him. She hated him with a blinding passion, but he gave her what she needed. He provided for her, he took care of her, and he had the means to make sure she was powerful, rich, and beautiful... well, in theory. If she did what she was told. She hated being a slave to her own desires and therefore a slave to him, but... what could she do? There was no way out, and she was sniveling in front of him, practically kissing his feet.
Turning, she scampered out of the room, winded and humiliated, but with the prospect of getting her hand back. Now... she just couldn't fail. Again.