Cynthia's feet took her to the door, she walked as if she was hypnotized, conflicted ideas bumping left and right in her already crowded head.
This really wasn't what she wanted her first week as a mother to be. This was supposed to be about her time with the revenge she waited years for, but everything else was dragging her around as if she was a ragdoll.
'I won't allow them to do this to me,' she thought angrily.
"Wait," George said in a low tone from behind her. She didn't want to turn around and face him. She didn't want to analyze why he was acting this possessively all of a sudden. Many of the ideas that raced through her head were about him.
Was he showing off in front of his parents and the mansion's staff? … Was he maintaining his image and adhering to the needed criteria of pretense? … was he acting like her guardian all over again seeing her as the orphan child whom his family held responsibility for? … Or did he… could he possibly…
