Romaine’s face could not be painted. That black-clothed person just snatched her stepdaughter from her sight. Now, Rozelyn’s already lying on the cemented floor outside the building of the art gallery.
Romaine Eastwood-Zadzisai can no longer count how many times Rozelyn fainted this month—the month of October.
Samhain was fast approaching, and the incidents that happened to their family was fast increasing; perhaps even more.
Without wasting another minute, she grabbed her phone from her clutch bag and phoned the only male in their family—Cyrill Emerson Clarke.
***
She could hear the noise of two people having a tango in the other line. Was Cyrill excavating another narrow cave again? That adoptive son of hers always wants to discove
