Raising My Son With His Mistress
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Summary
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?"
