The Mute Canary’s Payday
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Summary
During the peak of my social anxiety, I played mute in the bed of New York’s crown prince.
No matter how hard he worked, I grit my teeth and didn't make a sound.
That is, until his "white moonlight"—the one who got away—returned to the States, and he wired me a $5 million severance package.
In my excitement, I blurted out:
"Thanks, boss! You're the man!"
I covered my mouth in horror, but the man just laughed in disbelief.
"My little mute... don't tell me I just performed a medical miracle?"
