**Elena’s POV**

Three days.

For three days, I had been a prisoner in the room where I used to dream of fairy tales. The door opened only three times a day to deliver a tray of food. It was carried by a silent guard who refused to meet my gaze. He set the tray down and walked out. My own father had turned my bedroom into a prison cell.

With every hour that passed, my regret grew heavier. I should have gone to a hotel after being discharged from the hospital. I should have run away while I had ...