~ Author ~

Adeline lies in her bed at the Blackmoor mansion, heavy curtains drawn against the fading winter light. The tears have dried on her cheeks, leaving salty tracks that she doesn’t bother to wipe away. The nightmare clings to her like a second skin—the flames, the children's faces that eerily resemble the triplets, her mother's distant warmth. She curls her hand over her belly, feeling the faint flutter inside her, a reminder of the life—or lives—growing there. The sense of ...