Luna’s hands trembled as she clutched the piece of paper, the ink slightly smudged from her sweat-damp fingers. Her eyes remained fixed on the address scrawled in elegant cursive.

Mercy General Medical Center.

Her breath hitched. Her pulse roared in her ears.

Her mother was there.

Alive.

After years of mourning, after two decades of questions buried beneath grief and lies—Elise Winters was not dead. She’d been alive all this time. In a coma. Hidden. Protected? Or ...