“Fiancée?” I look at Adam confused.
Adam doesn’t look very pleased, but he doesn’t deny it, either. “It’s true that our parents welcomed this match and wanted me to approach Jason to arrange this match but then that bastard took Jenny from us-”
“Please, son,” Adam’s father says, stiffly, “don’t take that thing’s name in our house.”
I see the flash of fury in Adam’s eyes, “That ‘thing’ is my little sister!”
His mother sighs, as if in exasperation and it’s then that I notice the three-year-old sitting quietly in a corner, “No, that is your little sister, Adam. Riley, come over and greet your big brother.”
Riley is a cute little thing, but I can see the disbelief in Adam’s eyes as the little girl toddles over. He doesn’t touch her or greet him, and I can feel his anger building inside of
