Immediately her personage changed from soft and gentle to rigid and utterly furious. What did the harlot want this time? Didn't she know any better? She took it and ripped it open, reading it over in her rage. What she read did not make her any happier. This words were disgusting; vomit on paper. This woman, this sub-creature, was writing about how she dreamed about Jackson - touched herself to the thought of him, hoped that one day she would have the honor of bedding him. Petunia was shaking. How dare this Haylee whore say such things to her husband. As if Petunia didn't even exist. As if he wasn't married. "You don't nearly realize just how lucky you are, homewrecker." Petunia muttered darkly, "Your heart is still beating because Jackson would be upset if I came home covered in blood."