VANESSA POV

I kept my eyes lowered as the knock echoed through the bedroom door, my heart pounding hard enough to bruise.

Inside, though, something colder was forming—calmer, sharper.

They thought the crash had broken me.

That fear had wiped me clean.

I would let them believe it.

I would be quiet.

Obedient.

Forgetful.

I would smile when I was supposed to and tremble when they expected it.

Because broken people weren’t dangerous.

And no one ever watched them closely enough to see the knife forming in their hands.

“Come in,” Kay said.

My gaze lifted slowly.

Emily and Jake stood in the doorway. Jake held a bowl of soup in his hands. Emily’s eyes burned into me—sharp, poisonous. Was she always this jealous of me? Or had I just never noticed before?

“I brought you food,” Jake said gently. “You haven’t eaten since morning, I assume.”

For just a second, my heart softened.

Then I remembered the betrayal.

I chose the wrong name on purpose.

“Thank you, Kay,” I whispered, letting my voice tremble just enough as I looked straight into his eyes.

Jake shifted, visibly uncomfortable under my stare.

Kay took the bowl from his hands. “You two can go,” he said calmly. Firmly. “She’ll eat, and we’ll come down when she’s done.”

His gaze locked with Jake’s—something unspoken passing between them. I couldn’t tell what it meant, but the tension was unmistakable.

“Sure,” Emily said quickly, forcing a smile. “We’ll be waiting.”

When they left, the room felt lighter. Quieter.

Kay turned back to me, still holding the bowl. “Sit and eat.”

My eyes dropped to the soup. Fear crept into my chest.

What if they poisoned it?

I hesitated.

Kay noticed.

Without a word, he lifted the spoon and tasted it himself. My eyes widened.

“Not great,” he muttered, unimpressed. “But it’s fine. You can eat it.”

I exhaled slowly.

“Sit,” he said again, softer this time. “If you don’t have the strength, I’ll feed you.”

As I sat on the bed, I realized this was the perfect moment.

To act broken.

I stared at my hands, fidgeting with my fingers, letting myself look small—lost, fragile. Then I looked up at him.

Kay flinched.

The guilt flickered across his face before he buried it, but I saw it. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“I’ll feed you,” he said quietly, avoiding my eyes. “You’re not strong enough yet.”

I wondered what was going through his head.

I ate half the bowl before I couldn’t take another bite. The soup was bland—barely salted. Whoever made it clearly had terrible taste.

“That’s enough,” I murmured.

Kay nodded. “Let’s go downstairs before they come barging in again.”

I nodded and let him lead the way.

Inside, my mind was already working.

Watching.

Measuring.

Waiting.