I Sold Her Mercedes And Left
Language: en
The moment my son climbed into the backseat, he pulled a crumpled lemon-poppyseed muffin from his backpack. Michelle’s face went stone-cold. "I’ve told you a thousand times, no eating in the car. Who raised you to be so undisciplined?" Toby flinched, the pastry halfway to his mouth. Michelle stared at a few stray crumbs that had tumbled onto the leather upholstery, and her temper snapped. "You’re just like your father. Completely lacking any sense of class." I froze, my hand still gripping the door handle. In the passenger seat, her assistant, Marcus, lifted his wrist. He made a show of…