The metallic rattle of keys twisted in the lock.
The door opened. Ainsley strolled in, holding a brown paper bag like it was just another lazy morning. “Good morning,” he called out with a bright, infuriating cheer. “I brought beef buns. Hot, just how you like them.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her hands were still trembling.
“You’re welcome,” he added with a smirk, tossing his keys onto the counter.
She stayed rooted by the bed, watching him like he was a rabid dog that might pounce. He raised an eyebrow. “Silent treatment again? Come on, Eloise. You’ll hurt my feelings.”
She finally moved with slow reluctant steps into the kitchen. Her eyes scanned the windows, then froze. Bars. Cold, thick iron bars bolted across the balcony.
“What the hell did you do?” she asked, her voice sha
