CHAPTER 22

ADRIANNA’S POV

In the beautiful prison where I was kept hostage, a whimper escaped my lips and I clutched the edge of the cabinet for support as the older maid cinched the corset again from behind me.

This was the third time she was tightening the corset. I could feel my ribs protesting, on the brink of cracking, air squeezing out painfully from my lungs under the torturing weight.

“You have a slender figure. I don’t understand why you’re squealing like a dying mouse,” ...