I'm so useless. I've never hated myself more.
I know I can't let anything bad happen to Penelope, but I can't draw anything now. What should I do?
Suddenly, someone sits down on the other side.
I can still recognize at a glance with my misty eyes that the person sitting opposite is Frances.
Why is he here?
I hurriedly wipe away my tears and look at him as if nothing has happened.
"What happen to Penelope?"
He frowns and asks softly.
Why does he know Penelope?
I always think that he doesn't know about Penelope's existence.
But now as he asks me like this, he obviously knows it.
He is Penelope's father, but he isn't deserve it at all.
I bite my lips and stubbornly shake my head at him, "Nothing."
"Jane, she is my child. I have the right to know about her." He says in a deep voice.
I have never thought of denying that Penelope is his child, but that doesn't mean that he has the right to intervene.
If he really wants to know, how can I cover up?
He doesn't even know how serious Penelope's illness is. It means that he doesn't care at all. He has never secretly investigated, which is obvious enough to show his unconcern.
"Frances, you don't have the right,"
I say coldly. Then I get up and walk out.
Suddenly, my wrist is pulled.
"Jane, what do you want?"
"What do I want?"
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