Chapter 4

Eliana's POV

Two weeks in that cage broke something in me.

The mornings were the worst. When the sun came up and heated the metal bars, they'd burn my skin if I accidentally leaned against them. At night I'd curl into the smallest ball possible and listen to the sounds of the house through the windows.

They fed me once a day if I was lucky. Stale bread and water that tasted like rust.

On the fourteenth day, Martin came outside and unlocked the cage door. I flinched back instinctively, pressing myself against the far corner.

"Get up. We have guests coming and you need to look presentable."

I crawled out on shaking legs. My clothes were stiff with dried mud and rain, my hair was matted, and I smelled like an animal.

"Shower. Change. Be downstairs in thirty minutes." He walked away without waiting for a response.

I stood there in the rain for a moment, letting the cold water wash over my face. The hot shower hurt when I finally got inside—the water stung against my raw skin and the cuts on my knees. I scrubbed until my skin turned red, trying to wash away two weeks of filth. My reflection in the mirror looked hollow with dark circles under my eyes and cheekbones too sharp. Bruises in various stages of healing covered my arms and legs.

I pulled on clean clothes from my room and went downstairs, keeping my head down and my steps quiet.

Vivian sat on the sofa in a pale pink dress with her legs tucked gracefully to one side. All four men surrounded her and they were laughing at something she'd said.

I hovered in the doorway, unsure if I was allowed to enter.

"Oh, Eliana!" Vivian spotted me and her face lit up with a bright smile. "Come sit with us!"

I moved slowly into the room and perched on the edge of a chair far from everyone else.

"I was just thinking," Vivian said, clasping her hands together. "We should celebrate! I'm finally home and safe. Let's make something special. Maybe strawberry cake?"

Lawrence smiled at her. "That sounds perfect."

"I'll help you make it," Martin offered immediately.

"We all will," Dennis added.

They stood up together and followed Vivian toward the kitchen, talking and laughing. I stayed in the chair, forgotten again.

An hour later they returned. Martin carried a beautiful three-layer cake with white frosting and fresh strawberries on top. The smell made my stomach turn over.

They set it on the coffee table and Vivian cut generous slices, placing them on delicate china plates. She served the men first, then took a piece for herself.

Then she cut the largest slice and walked over to me, holding it out with both hands. Her smile was sweet and gentle.

"Here, sister. This one's for you. I made it especially."

I stared at the plate.

"I can't." My voice came out barely above a whisper.

"Why not?" Her eyes widened with innocent confusion.

"I'm allergic to strawberries. You know I am, remember? Lawrence, you specifically asked the chef never to use them when—"

"I know there were some misunderstandings before," Vivian interrupted softly. "But I really don't blame you for anything. Please take it and let's start over."

"I'll get sick. I'm seriously allergic and I could—"

"For God's sake!" Martin slammed his glass down. "Vivian is being incredibly generous right now and the least you could do is accept her peace offering!"

"But I'm allergic!"

Lawrence stood up and crossed his arms. "Vivian went through hell for three years and she comes back and tries to be kind to you, and this is how you respond? You can't even pretend to appreciate her effort?"

"It's not about appreciation! I could die!"

"Always so dramatic," Philip muttered.

Vivian's eyes filled with tears. "I just wanted us to be friends." Her voice broke. "I know you probably hate me because they... because of what happened with you and them. But I promise I'm not trying to take anything from you. I just want us to be a family."

Dennis moved behind my chair and his hands landed on my shoulders, heavy and firm. "Eat the cake, Eliana."

"No!" I tried to stand but he pushed me back down.

Martin picked up the plate and fork, cut a piece and held it toward my mouth. "Open."

I pressed my lips together and turned my head away.

Lawrence grabbed my chin and forced my face forward. His fingers dug into my jaw. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

"Please don't do this! Please! You know I'm allergic! You KNOW!"

Dennis's hand clamped over my nose, cutting off my air. I held my breath as long as I could but eventually I gasped and my mouth opened. Martin shoved the fork in immediately.

The taste of strawberries exploded on my tongue, sickeningly sweet.

"Swallow," Lawrence ordered.

I did because I had no choice.

They made me eat the entire slice, bite after bite after bite while I sobbed and begged and they held me down and forced it into my mouth.

When the plate was empty, Dennis let me go. I fell forward onto my knees, gagging.

"See?" Vivian said brightly. "That wasn't so bad! Now we can—"

I couldn't hear the rest. My throat was closing up and I clawed at my neck, trying to pull air into my lungs but nothing was working. The room spun and my lips felt swollen and numb.

I collapsed onto the floor.

"Shit! She's not breathing right!" Dennis's voice sounded far away.

"Her lips are turning blue!" Philip's face appeared above me, blurry and distorted.

"Call 911!" Lawrence was already pulling out his phone.

Martin scooped me up and I felt myself being carried. Everything was getting dark around the edges and my whole body was on fire, itching and burning and shutting down.

This is it. This is how I die.

The last thing I heard before I blacked out was Vivian's voice, soft and distant. "Oops."

I opened my eyes slowly. Everything hurt and my throat felt like I'd swallowed broken glass. My skin was tight and tender.

A nurse stood by the window checking an IV bag. She noticed me stirring and came over with a smile.

"You're awake. That's good, you gave everyone quite a scare."

I tried to speak but only managed a croak.

"Don't talk yet. Your throat's going to be sore for a while. You had a severe allergic reaction and we had to intubate you in the ambulance." She adjusted something on the machine. "You're lucky your friends got you here fast."

Friends. The word cut through me.

"They're outside. Do you want me to—"

I shook my head frantically.

She frowned but nodded. "Okay. Rest now."

I closed my eyes and let the tears slide silently down my temples.

Four hours later I was moved from the ICU to a private room.

I lay there staring at the ceiling and listening to voices in the hallway, the men's voices talking about Vivian.