Morning light filtered through the kitchen windows. Soft. Warm. Deceptive. Making prison look like home. Making a cage look like sanctuary.

Emma stood at the stove. Eggs frying. Bacon sizzling. Coffee brewing. Familiar sounds. Practiced movements. All part of the performance. The act of becoming what Daniel needed to see.

She hummed quietly. An old song. From before everything. Before captivity. Before becoming an actress in her own life. Before selling her soul to save her ...