Andrew, pull your woolly hat on, love, its freezing out there! Leave it, mum, if I didnt freeze in Transylvania
Old Mrs. Edith wept, her tears tracing the gaunt, furrowed lines of her pale cheeks. She flapped her
**Diary Entry 12th October** My mother pretends to be ill to avoid working and lives off us.
“It’s not my son,” the millionaire said coldly, his voice echoing through the marble foyer.
Poppy Whitaker never trusted her husband. In the shifting fog of her mind she had learned to rely only
I tore myself away from my familyand for the first time, I could breathe. Growing up, I believed family
Hes not my son, said the millionaire coldly, his voice echoing through the marble hall. Take your things
I severed ties with my familyand for the first time, I breathed freely. Growing up, I believed family