When you visit our website, if you give your consent, we will use cookies to allow us to collect data for aggregated statistics to improve our service and remember your choice for future visits. Cookie Policy & Privacy Policy
Dear Reader, we use the permissions associated with cookies to keep our website running smoothly and to provide you with personalized content that better meets your needs and ensure the best reading experience. At any time, you can change your permissions for the cookie settings below.
If you would like to learn more about our Cookie, you can click on Privacy Policy.
Thorn. “I’m getting better, Thorn. You don’t have to look at me like that.” Maddy says, and I help her prop up the pillows of the bed, her pallid face now held a faint blush of color, while her eyes, once dimmed by illness, now sparkled with a renewed vitality. “You have been bedridden for two weeks.” I say to her and she looks at me in shock. “I can’t believe Brad hated me to death. How? How am I even alive?” Maddy asks, a flicker of wonder dances across her features, mingling with the remnants of fear that still clung to her fragile frame. Aunt Susan walks into the room with fresh towels and a housekeeper who is holding a plate of warm porridge. “How can you not believe it? Didn’t Delilah warn you? Leave the porridge on that table, please.” Aunt Susan says and I look back at her.