The Billionaire in Flip Flops
Language: en
At 3:07 in the morning, my phone blew up with seventeen consecutive calls. When I finally picked up, the cop didn't even say hello—he just barked: "You hit a pedestrian with your Porsche and fled the scene?" Me? A gig courier whose beat-up electric scooter was borrowed from my roommate. Yet when they pulled up my profile, the database told a wildly different story: three luxury properties, two corporate conglomerates, and a marital status that read "Married". My actual checking balance: $6.30. So could somebody please tell me who the hell my mystery "wife" actually was?