The faint scent of freshly brewed coffee reached me before my eyes even opened. For a second, I forgot where I was. The mattress beneath me was far too soft, the linens crisp and cool in a way that spoke of expensive fabric and professional laundering. Then the reality hit me—this wasn’t my bed, or my home.
I turned my head, taking in the pale gold curtains swaying in the morning breeze, the intricate molding on the high ceiling, the armchair in the corner draped with a knitted throw I didn’t recognize. The Donovan mansion.
I pushed myself up slowly, my stitches reminding me they were still there.
A knock sounded.
“Sabrina?” Alicia’s warm voice filtered through the door. “Breakfast is ready, sweetheart. No rush—just whenever you feel up to it.”
Her voice held a mother’s patience, the
