Maya wakes the next day with cautious hope.
Her body feels less like it's being consumed by fire today, though weakness still clings to her limbs like a persistent fog.
The massive bedroom, with its dark wood panels and antique furniture, feels more like a gilded cage than ever before.
She pushes herself up against the ornate headboard, wincing at the residual ache in her muscles.
The clock on the mantelpiece reads just past eight in the morning, and already she can hear the distant sounds of children's laughter echoing through the mansion's halls.
Her babies.
Her heart aches with the need to see them.
A soft knock at the door precedes the entrance of a maid - the first she has seen since arriving here.
The woman, probably in her fifties with steel-gray hair pulled into a sev
