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Maya didn’t know whether Eleanor was feeding Emma those herbs while pretending to bathe her. She prayed that wasn’t the case.
But her motherly instincts were on overdrive as she burst through the front door of her house.
“Where is she?” she roared while marching into the house. Michael, who was lulling Emma in his arms, looked at her quizzically. “Where is who?” he asked. Maya was on the warpath.