Layla lay on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Nolan’s house felt like a gilded cage—luxurious but suffocating.

She wasn’t free to do as she pleased. The only time she ever left the house was for work, and even that was stressful. She avoided going out unnecessarily, afraid she might miss the strict curfew Nolan had set for her.

So she stayed home whenever she was free.

Her driving lessons were restricted to Nolan’s compound. He had arranged an instructor to come over and start ...