In the en suite bathroom, Cecilia squatted next to the toilet and cried bitterly.

She knew that doing so meant that she had hit rock bottom.

But she couldn’t control herself.

This was the only way she could release her pent-up frustration, because the moment she walked out that door, she’d have to pretend that she was completely fine.

She still had to be a good daughter.

She still had to be a good mother.

She still had to be a glamorous model…

“Suck it up, Cecilia,” she told herself through gritted teeth.

She told herself she wasn’t allowed to cry.

trance, her listless eyes landed

deep thought, recalling the first time

Cecilia was

a

cars abruptly pulled to a stop in front of her house, bringing along more than a dozen bodyguards dressed in black,

the living room of the Fowler’s house, looking

was none

also

her father requested her to

couldn’t help but think that he appeared to only be

adult, address him as “Uncle Mark” like

thought, she could see that both her father and

she figured that if she was humble and obedient, Mark might agree to let Rena

Cecilia had worn a

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