Broken by His Fiancée
My mother, Eleanor Thorne, dropped out of school at a young age to work, single-handedly raising my uncle, Logan Thorne, all on her own. Because of that bond, right before she passed away from a severe illness, she tightly held Logan’s hand and entrusted me to his care, begging him to look after me.
With bloodshot eyes, Uncle Logan swore right beside her hospital bed that he would never let a single soul lay a finger on me for the rest of his life.
When I was seven years old, my biological father, Richard Jennings, was preparing to remarry, and he muttered a cruel comment under his breath, calling me a piece of useless baggage.
The next second, Logan smashed a glass bottle right over his