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I know a PI who can track down your little con woman in no time.
Zach Sun:
The last time I hired someone upon your recommendation, I ended up with a stranger’s dildo clogging my pool skimmer.
Hard pass.
I’d trust Frankie Townsend before I trust whomever you recommend.
Ollie vB:
Ouch.
Short temper.
Ollie vB:
Maybe it’s time to get laid.
Romeo Costa:
By something other than his hand.
Ollie vB:
His poor dick. Probably goes to bed screaming, “Help! My owner beats me every night.”
Romeo Costa:
Impeccable grammar. A+.
Zach Sun has notifications silenced.
Meanwhile, Mom hadn’t stopped rambling.
She tucked the photo onto the glass edge of the custom frame that held an original Twombly sketch. “Wholesome is bad?”
“For someone with an estimated IQ in the 200s, wholesome can be boring.”
“She’s actually into archery.” Mom cleared her throat. “And can cook.”
“Surgeons work unfathomable hours. She wouldn’t be a good fit as a mother.”
“I said neurologist, not neurosurgeon. If she were the latter, I wouldn’t even ask before booking you a wedding venue.” When she didn’t draw the smile she’d aimed for, she sighed. “Besides, she’s planning a sabbatical before transitioning to part-time.”
I stood, pacing across my office. An office that smelled less and less like my kingdom since Octi had paid it a visit.
Her scent clung to the air—oranges, artificial fruit, cheap soap, and a hint of some cleaning product.
“She’s no good,” I growled, fixing my gaze on thatunfinished Go game that mocked me more than that nameless woman’s smile.
“She’s brilliant.” Mom shadowed me while Ayi stacked the remaining photos and used them as a coaster. “Your father and her father were good friends in college. They met at Tsinghua before Dad left for Oxford for his master’s. They were xué zhang and xué di.”
SeniorandJunior.
They must’ve been close.
That stopped me in my tracks.
