The door closed behind her with a soft click that echoed like a gunshot in the silence.
Lena stood still, barely breathing, her fingers still trembling from the confrontation. The air in her room felt heavier now — too still, too perfect — the kind of luxury that suddenly felt like a prison.
She turned, scanning the space: high ceilings, a vast canopy bed, silk curtains that fluttered with the sea breeze. It was breathtaking. In another life, she might have gasped at the sheer beauty of it — the marble floors veined like smoke, the faint scent of jasmine that lingered from freshly replaced flowers, the way moonlight spilled through the glass doors to the balcony like liquid silver.
But all she saw now were walls.
Beautiful, gilded, inescapable walls.
She walked toward the window, pres
