Giselle

Like a habit forged over nearly eight years, I wake up at six in the morning. Sleep refuses to come back, so I take a shower and rummage through the clothes Nathan’s driver lent me, searching for something that covers my arms—the bruises Oliver left are still visible.

When I step out of my room, I realize I’m the only one awake. As a gesture of gratitude, I decide to make breakfast for Mr. Kalet.

I head to the kitchen and, careful not to make too much noise, open the cabinets one ...