The sun’s blinding rays are the only thing that awoke Rozelyn.
She’s quite upset because neither Romaine nor Cyrill have woken her up in this English-style manor.
She grasped the hems of the b****y red curtains and swiftly split it open while still in her lavender silk nightgown.
Rozelyn peered outside as her chamber was facing the rear part of this wide and a hundred-hectare private state.
‘The coven and the pack are indeed super wealthy, considering the minimum price tag of this place is no less than a million euros.’
She murmured softly. So soft that perhaps even the robin by the oak tree in front of her window cannot even hear what she mumbled.
She was gazing at the eastern horizon when an ethereal voice broke the silence of the morning breeze.
“I’m glad
