Raising My Son With His Mistress
Language: en
It was my second day at the County Clerk’s office after transferring back to the city. I was still settling in, shadowing one of the senior clerks, Sarah, when a young woman walked up to the counter. She looked like she’d stepped off a runway—expensive silk blouse, designer bag, and an aura of effortless privilege. Sarah leaned in and whispered, "Here we go again. This is her ninety-ninth time requesting a certified copy of her marriage license. We keep her files on standby; it’s faster that way." I blinked, stunned. "Ninety-ninth?" Sarah chuckled, pulling up a digital folder. "Yeah. Local…