"Mom!" Bertha Swift called softly, bending over to try and hold her mother's hand, but did not dare to touch it after seeing the bandage on her wrist.
Mrs. Swift softly called Bertha again, then murmured apologies, her gaze vacant, her entire body exuding a deathly aura.
Bertha felt a pang of heartache, "Did they say something to you? Mom, didn't we agree that you would live with me from now on and not care about that trash? Why be so foolish..."
Listening to her daughter, Mrs. Swift's gaze fell on Bertha's still red and swollen cheek, and with her other hand, she gently stroked it, murmuring, "Did he hit you? Bertha, I'm sorry, it's my fault, I couldn't protect you..."
"I'm fine, it was just an accident today, he can't do anything to me now, don't be afraid." Bertha felt uneasy in her heart.
Adam Piers came in and saw Bertha, looking a bit disheveled, leaning by Mrs. Swift's bedside. He quietly brought a chair over for Bertha.
