Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Performance
Sometimes survival isn’t about fighting—it’s about smiling while the knife presses at your throat.
Julia spent the next morning in performance mode.
She brewed coffee. Hummed softly in the kitchen. Even asked Daniel about his work, nodding at his answers like the perfect wife.
Every word she spoke tasted like ash.
Every smile felt like glass cracking across her face.
But she kept going.
Because she knew now—he was waiting for her to slip.
And she couldn’t let him see.
When Daniel left for the office, Julia moved quickly.
Back to the study.
Her fingers trembled as she slid open the hidden compartment again, just long enough to grab one photograph—one where she was asleep, unaware, the shadows of blinds striping her skin.
She tucked it into
