Isabella's POV
I didn't sleep. I sat with my back against the locked door until my legs went numb, watching the shadows of the trees dance across the floor like skeletal fingers. Every time the wind hissed through the leaves outside, I flinched, expecting a hand to reach through the wood and drag me back into the light.
"Where is your family, Isabella?"
The question looped in my mind, a rhythmic torture, a heartbeat of pure dread. Nikolai's voice had been so cold, so certain. He hadn't just been asking; he had been dissecting me. He didn't just suspect I was lying; he already knew the truth was a jagged thing I had spent years trying to smooth over with silence and fake smiles.
