EMMALINE
Days have passed since I was discharged from the hospital, but somehow, I still feel trapped.
The doctor said I needed strict bed rest until my delivery, and Alexander made sure of it. I can’t even step a foot past my doorway without someone stopping me. Guards stand outside day and night, their shadows creeping beneath the door like reminders that I’m being watched. Every creak, every whisper in the corridor makes me flinch.
They call it protection.
But it feels like a cage.
Maggie does everything she can to make the room feel less suffocating. She brings food I barely eat, smooths the blankets, hums softly to fill the silence. But no amount of kindness can erase the truth—someone tried to kill my baby. And every time my eyes drift to the door, my stomach tightens with fear.
