The lawyer’s reply burned in my mind like a hidden flame.
“I can help. Send coordinates. Be careful. Alexander is dangerous.”
I had sent the message two nights ago. No further reply yet. Every hour without one made my anxiety worse. I moved through the villa like a woman walking on broken glass — smiling for the children, cooking meals, letting Alexander hold me at night while my heart screamed for escape.
The rose-gold collar around my neck felt heavier every day. Once a symbol of surrender and twisted love, it now represented everything I had lost: my mother, my freedom, my innocence.
Alexander knew something was wrong. He always knew.
This morning, I was in the nursery folding clothes when he walked in. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with those sharp gra
