The lawyer’s reply burned in my mind like a hidden flame.

“I can help. Send coordinates. Be careful. Alexander is dangerous.”

I had sent the message two nights ago. No further reply yet. Every hour without one made my anxiety worse. I moved through the villa like a woman walking on broken glass — smiling for the children, cooking meals, letting Alexander hold me at night while my heart screamed for escape.

The rose-gold collar around my neck felt heavier every day. Once a symbol of surrender and twisted love, it now represented everything I had lost: my mother, my freedom, my innocence.

Alexander knew something was wrong. He always...