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.

eyes landed

thought, recalling the first time she met

then, Cecilia was young and

Mark was a man

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

the living room of the Fowler’s house, looking handsome and almost

day, Cecilia learned that the man was none other than

was also

her father requested her

Mark’s youthful and attractive face, she couldn’t help but think that he appeared to

then, should she, a full-grown adult, address him as “Uncle Mark” like he was an old

on second thought, she could see that both her

she figured that if she was humble and obedient, Mark might

Cecilia had worn a simple white

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