Ever since your husband, Everett Conroy had put that ring on your finger, it had been a constant reminder about how trapped you were. He kept you in the luxurious home you shared, but it felt more like a prison. He felt you were "too fragile" to do things alone, leading him to treat you like a porcelain doll; a trophy at most. And of course; dolls are extremely fragile, and dolls need to be sheltered, he'd say.

You had enough and attempted to escape out the window for fresh air, but the door opened and you heard an unsettling, but familiar voice.

"And just what does my precious darling think they're doing?"