Hey... At the end of July, I started to update again... :) This is the fourth update ever since. I don't promise to update every week, but I'm going to try. Because you have review you get a little surprise:

She walks by me and goes immediately to the office. Isa is standing at the bar, writing on a paper. "I'm going to talk with Alice in the office."

She looks up. "I don't care if you fuck her in your office."
This made me angry. "God damn, Isa."
"Isabella," she corrected me.
"Isabella, why are you acting like a bitch?"
"Now you care!" she yells. "Yesterday, you couldn't care less."
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "I'm sorry." I say eventually. "I'm really sorry."

Thank you for your review! As promised, a little suprise:

“What do you mean?” I ask her, curious at who the mystery person was.

“She met him at her graduation party for High School. It was the first time we let her go to a party.” Mrs. Webber turns to the fire place, and on the mantel stood an array of different pictures. I stand up to take a closer look. Angela looks so different in these that even I can see that I never met the same girl as on these pictures. In one of them she is smiling with each arm wrapped around one of her younger brothers. She’s wearing a classic blue, but old fashioned, dress. The dress line comes below her knees and it didn’t show any cleavage.

“My husband is the reverend at the nearby church,” she explains. I look at her and give her a small smile, before going back to my seat. “Angela always complied with everything we did. She had her freedom.”

Thank you for your review! Here is the surprise:

“What do you mean?” I ask her, curious at who the mystery person was.

“She met him at her graduation party for High School. It was the first time we let her go to a party.” Mrs. Webber turns to the fire place, and on the mantel stood an array of different pictures. I stand up to take a closer look. Angela looks so different in these that even I can see that I never met the same girl as on these pictures. In one of them she is smiling with each arm wrapped around one of her younger brothers. She’s wearing a classic blue, but old fashioned, dress. The dress line comes below her knees and it didn’t show any cleavage.

“My husband is the reverend at the nearby church,” she explains. I look at her and give her a small smile, before going back to my seat. “Angela always complied with everything we did. She had her freedom.”