Charlotte remembered the first time she met Wade, when her husband brought him to the mansion a year ago. It was after her retreat to their room.
The child was shy and apprehensive, but he still approached her.
"H-hello, lady. I-I mean Marchioness Oswalt," he stuttered, looking at her, then elsewhere, before looking at her again. "My name is Wade."
'His name is Wade'. She had thought, but she was feeling so much emotions that she couldn't respond. She just couldn't bring herself to speak.
In the end, she couldn't face him. She just turned away. She didn't say a word to him and she didn't spare him another glance either. She just didn't know what to do.
Should she have smiled at him, her husband's child from another woman? Or should she have cried, yelled, glared, or told him to get out of her sight, that she hated him and that he shouldn't smile so hopefully at her?
She just chose to walk away. To her, that was the safer option.
