The island paradise was starting to feel like a prison with golden bars.
I spent the morning on the beach with the children, forcing smiles as Alex built sandcastles and Sofia chased waves. My hand never left my belly, as if protecting the new life inside me from the darkness surrounding us. The rose-gold collar felt tighter today, a beautiful reminder of the man who had killed my mother to own me.
Alexander watched us from the terrace, his powerful frame relaxed in a white linen shirt, but I could feel his eyes on me constantly. He was always watching now.
When the children napped after lunch, he found me in the nursery, folding tiny clothes with trembling hands.
“You’re still pulling away,” he said quietly, closing the door behind him. “I can feel it in every touch, every look.”
I d
