Cherish Turner suddenly bit her lip, feeling an icy chill surround her, as if she were about to freeze.
His approach was terrifying. Would he not want the child?
Cherish slumped down on the sofa, motionless. She closed her eyes, and a sense of desolate sadness filled her, as if she had reached a dead end with nowhere to turn.
"What do you want?" she finally asked, her voice trembling.
William Griffith calmly strode forward, his tall figure slightly swaying as he crouched down in front of her. He gently took her cold hand, devoid of any warmth, "Why don't you wear more clothes? Your hands are always so cold."
Cherish said nothing, so he asked again, "Where is your room?"
Still silent, he glanced at the stairs to the second floor, "I'll grab you a coat."