The morning after the failed escape attempt, the island felt like it had shrunk overnight.
I woke up in Alexander’s arms, his large hand resting protectively on my heavily pregnant belly. The baby kicked strongly, as if sensing the tension in the room. The rose-gold collar around my neck felt like a noose, beautiful and suffocating. For the first time in years, I truly understood how my mother must have felt in her final days — trapped, terrified, and powerless against the man who claimed to love her.
Alexander stirred behind me, his breath warm against my neck.
“Morning, babygirl,” he murmured, kissing the side of my throat above the collar. “How are you feeling today?”
I didn’t answer immediately. The grief was a living thing inside me, sharp and relentless. Every time I closed my ey
