Rhea
I wake up before the sun is fully over the horizon, staring at a ceiling that is far too high and far too white.
A week. It’s been exactly seven days since my world crumbled. Seven days since I found out my father was gone, Mrs. Rose was murdered, and Marcus was more of a monster than I ever thought.
Moving into this wing, just a few doors down from Adrian’s private suite, was supposed to make me feel safe. That’s what Adrian said, anyway. But as I lie here in silk sheets that probably cost more than my father’s medical bills for a year, I feel like a bird in a gilded cage.
‘Stop thinking about this too much, Rhea,’ Sira says, sounding clearer and more grounded than she did a week ago. ‘You’re wearing us out before the day even starts.’
‘I can’t help it, Sira,’ I sigh internally
