Life on the island became its own kind of prison.
Nero had me watched around the clock. Even a simple walk through the grounds meant four armed guards following close behind.
The solid gold anklet chafed my skin with every step, constantly reminding me that I belonged to him.
I hated being treated like a prisoner.
So I stopped eating.
On the first day, Nero remained cold and unmoved as he ordered the servants to remove the untouched meal.
"Let her," he said flatly. "Once she's hungry enough to learn her lesson, she'll eat."
On the second day, hunger made me collapse in the bathroom.
My forehead struck the marble floor.
When I woke again, Nero was sitting beside my bed with a bowl of steaming soup in his hands.
Clicking his tongue in irritation, he pinched my chin until I opened m
