CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
Silence rained thick in the extravagant one-bedroom house that was home to Juliet since she moved out of their home with Byron with her daughter. She was trying to process the bomb that her best friend had just dropped.
“What do you mean your father is very sick?” she questioned after some bit of hesitation.
“The doctor says he has less than four months, Juliet,” Vicky’s voice broke as she said those words. Sometime sit felt like she was stuck in the middle of a never ending nightmare and she hated how every single time she thought or said how much little time her father had left, there would a churning sensation burning down her gut. It clawed on her indies, making her stomach walls tremble in pain. It just felt too…unreal.
“B-But its Mr. Carrington,” Juliet said
