Chapter 82

Joan’s POV

I hated everyone.

Angered and frightened, I let myself fall to the bed, the tears trickling down the back of my eyes. How can Fred just come back to him? And the first thing he does is assume that I would slap a woman the age of my mother because I hated her.

I was too gullible to attempt such a mistake, but I had already accepted my fate; she was his mother; she was just his mother.

I let the anger take a toll on me and slowly drove me to sleep, just to wake up to the loony weather. My stomach rumbled, but the sadness made me nauseous. But there was just this scent that piqued my interest; it smelt like a perfectly made stake, and on a platter, it made my belly sing even more.

But then, when I remembered who might be preparing this food, the hunger died immediately. Fred wasn’t a good cook. I learned that the hard way. After, he prepared food for me to eat during my mom's vacation with Jones. Thank goodness she dropped leftovers, but that wasn’t the matter on the ground.

I