"Molly, who taught you to say that?"
Skye Brown was really taken aback by Molly Wellington's words.
The little princess lifted her head: "No one taught me, it was my own idea. I like you, you're sweet and warm… Aunt Skye, why don't you marry Daddy and be my mother?"
Little Molly's tiny hands were tightly clutching Skye's clothes, afraid that if she let go, Skye would run away.
Even though it was just a small gesture, Skye noticed it.
She sighed inwardly—such a pitiful child, no matter how well-dressed and glamorous she appeared, she still lacked a sense of security inside.
Seeing her sleeping posture, seeing how she held on tightly, everything showed her inner loneliness and emptiness.
Skye couldn't bear to hurt this poor child and tried to show more kindness.
