The mattress was soft, smelling of lavender and fresh linen.

But the room felt like a fortress, and I was a prisoner, no matter how luxurious the surroundings.

An hour later, a maid brought a tray of roasted chicken, vegetables, and hot tea.

The smell of the seasoned meat made my stomach turn instantly.

Morning sickness was already starting to take hold, even in the evening.

I rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I heaved.

I sat on the cold tile floor, wiping my mouth with a wet towel.

I had to be careful.

If the staff found untouched food or realized I was throwing up, they would report it to Dante.

I forced myself to drink some of the tea and ate a few bites of the plain bread from the tray.

I moved the chicken around the plate to make it look like I had eaten some of it.

Then I wrapped the rest of the meat in a napkin and hid it in the small trash can under some paper.