HARPER
"One week, five days," I murmured, circling the date on the calendar.
That was how long I'd been trapped here. At this rate, I might be spending Christmas in captivity, if anyone even remembered to come for me.
I groaned as a dull pang twisted in my stomach, and right then, the door creaked open. A maid stepped inside.
"Breakfast, Miss," she said, wheeling a food trolley into the room.
"Thank you," I muttered, watching her begin to lay out the plates. The rich aroma wafted up from beneath the lids, making my mouth water despite myself.
I had gone two whole days without eating, foolishly thinking that starving might break my father's resolve. Maybe—just maybe—he'd find a shred of pity.
He didn't.
He hadn't so much as checked in. I could die in this room, and he'd only notice if the smell reached the hallway.
So now, I've given up that strategy. If I was going to escape, I needed strength, not martyrdom. And the food? Well, it was free. Hopefully not poisoned.
