As I watched Grace on the monitors, her figure appeared on multiple screens in the dimly lit room. Her image flickered as she paced restlessly, her movements sharp and jittery. The room she was confined in was stark—plain walls, a single bed, and a small window high up, letting in minimal light. It was far from the luxury she was accustomed to, a far cry from the lavish room she had been in before. It was, in every sense, a cell, and it was designed to break her down.
Tony stood beside me, his unease palpable. The room we were in was equipped with a series of monitors, each displaying different angles of Grace’s confinement. I could see her shoulders slumped with weariness, her eyes darting to the door as if expecting it to open at any moment. The silence was punctuated only by her uneven
