* William’s POV *
It wasn’t actually my mother. That would have been a miraculous appearance. I stepped outside ready to punch someone’s head into the wall until I saw it was my Aunt Lucinda, a small smile playing at her lips.
“Hello, William,” she said. “It’s been a while.”
“Aunt Lucinda,” I gasped. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
She hugged me then, and I couldn’t help but smile at the warmth of her embrace. She had always been the closest thing I had to a mother when our parents died. She used to call herself my substitute mom, and that was a joke that stuck over the years.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I said, pulling back to look at her. Aunt Lucinda was a woman in her early fifties, with warm brown eyes and a kind smile that lit up her face. She had dark hair, shot through
