Chapter forty
Freda stood outside the hall of the Oscar estate. She was right beside her daughter who was dressed in a thin robe that flowed down to her ankle, made with the best fabric she could find in the market.

"Mother, I've told you that this fabric is itchy," she repeated herself for the seventh time within the hour and Freda looked at her the San away she had for the six times that she'd mentioned it.

"I don't know why I have such a dull daughter! Others are trying to make the best out of their children and my only child is trying so hard to be mediocre," she snapped angrily this time and glowered at her.

"But mother, this dress isn't even pretty. It makes me look old and the fabric doesn't suit my skin color. Not to mention that it irritates my skin," she complained bitterly.

Freda looked at her with an arched brow and asked, "What would you rather wear? These old dresses that you already wore?" She asked with a stern look.

"Mum, because I've worn the clothes twice does not make them o
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