My stomach sinks, and my eyes fill with hot tears, but I am quick to wipe them away.

“It’s better than the cellar,” I say again, gathering the blankets up to cover myself when I hear the key in the lock.

“Dinnertime, dear,” Antonia says as she opens the door.

I am greedy to take in the light of the slightly brighter corridor behind her. She must see my face because she starts to close the door but then stops and leaves it open. But her kind nature and pitying looks only make me feel sadder. More alone. More like crying, and I don’t want to cry anymore. Not for him. Not in front of any of them. So, I swallow it down.

“You need to eat, Ivy,” she says after looking at the untouched lunch tray. It was the same with breakfast.

“I’m not hungry. Do you think I can call my sister?” I don’t even know why I ask. I know the answer, and besides, I wouldn’t want to get her into trouble.

She comes over to sit on the bed, straightening the comforter. “If you eat your dinner, I’ll talk to him.”

I turn away. “Never mind then.”

“You’re only hurting yourself if you don’t eat.”

“I’m tired.”

“He’ll come around.”

I turn to her. “Do you think I did it? What they’re accusing me of?”

She pushes my hair behind my ear. It’s a mess. I haven’t brushed it in days. Haven’t showered in I don’t know how long.

“Of course not. I don’t think you’re capable of anything like that.”

I smile in gratitude. “How can he think it was me?”

“Cozy in here,” comes his dark voice.

Antonia and I startle and turn at the same time, she rushing to her feet as I push up to sit straighter, holding the blanket to me.

“Sir,” Antonia says as she clears my untouched lunch tray and walks past him.

Santiago looks at it, then holds out his hand to stop her as he studies the contents. “Did she eat anything?”

Antonia looks guiltily at me. “No, sir.”

He glances at me, his look hateful even in the dim light. “Breakfast?”

She clears her throat, casts her gaze down, and shakes her head, and I wonder how many days it’s been since his last conjugal visit.

“Is my food not good enough for you?” he asks me after dismissing Antonia.

“How can I be sure you’re not poisoning me?”

He snorts. “That’s rich.” He enters the room, and I grip the blanket tighter, remembering how he’d torn it away the last time he was here. He closes the door. “If you don’t eat the entire tray of food there, I will tie you to your bed and force it down your throat. Am I clear?”

“I’m not hungry.”