~Jennie’s~

“You’re not a prisoner, Jennie. But you are under strict supervision.”

That’s what Blair says as she clicks shut the new schedule folder and drops it on the coffee table like a damn verdict. She’s in another pantsuit today—black this time, sharp as her stare—and she doesn’t blink as she leans forward, like she’s giving me some elegant death sentence.

“I’ve rearranged your entire daily plan,” she continues. “Doctor’s orders were very clear—minimal stress, zero external contact unless approved, limited screen time, structured meals, prenatal meditation instead of emotional triggers like guitar or news. Oh—and your morning walks? Supervised now.”

She’s not even hiding the control anymore. She’s dressing...