LAUREN'S POV

“Come on, you haven’t eaten anything all day. My chef will prepare something nice for you to eat,” Roman said, his voice gentle yet firm, like he was trying to convince a stubborn child.

 Normally, those words might’ve sounded comforting — the thought of a warm meal, a quiet space, and someone genuinely caring about how I felt. But right now, they only felt like an echo in my head. The idea of food disgusted me. How could I sit at a dining table, eating good food prepared by a chef, when I didn’t even know if my daughter had eaten anything since she was taken? The thought...