Craving For Her Second Chance
I languidly picked it up to dial his phone number and waited for him to answer.
“Hello?” A voice of a lady answered. “Is this the daughter of Mr. Taylor?”
Perhaps, it’s one of the caregivers. “Yes,” I answered meekly. “I am his daughter, can I speak to him, please?”
“Just a minute, Miss Taylor.”
Miss Taylor. The mere name people used to call me. Now, I was called by the name Mrs. Jones, but was I really married? Truth be told, the first weeks of the marriage are fine, but when I started staying in his mansion, I felt like I’ve been played .
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