The Thorne family were hardly good people, especially Phoebe Huxley. Barbaric and domineering, she never gave Rosalind a pleasant look and would even make veiled insults, calling her a flirtatious vixen.
Heaven knows, her heart belonged only to her husband; she wouldn't deign to look at any other man. She wished those scoundrels would just get lost and leave her and her son to live in peace.
But in reality, even in broad daylight, men with ill intentions loitered by her door. The way they looked at her sent a chill down her spine, and she didn't dare close her eyes at night. If it weren't for her son protecting her, her virtue would have long been...
Rosalind Green's eyes reddened again as she looked guiltily at her son. She couldn't help him; worse, she was a burden.
If it weren't for her, Adrian Hawthorne wouldn't be trapped in these mountains. She knew her son desperately wanted to go to the city, but he'd never been able to.
