Flexed My Porsche, and Suddenly I'm Married?

Immediately after picking up my new Porsche Panamera, I took a photo of the steering wheel and uploaded it to my Instagram. Less than two minutes later, the female manager from the department next to mine, Quinn Zote, began to bombard me with a slew of questions. "You're driving such a luxurious car? Can you even afford the upkeep?" "That car sits too low. Men are likely to get in accidents driving it, and if all that bouncing around ruins your prostate, how are you supposed to carry on the family line?" "Bring me the car key right this instant. It just so happens that I need to use a car tonight!" Completely dumbfounded, I was only able to retort with a "Is there something wrong with you?" before Quinn called me. She screamed angrily over the line, "You're just an insignificant little employee, so why should you drive a luxury car? After we marry, you have to transfer that car over to my name! "I'm warning you, if you ruin your body with all that bouncing around and can't get me pregnant, I'm going to divorce you, and you'll leave with nothing to your name! Now, I'm giving you ten minutes to drive that car over here to the office building. Otherwise, I'm going to deduct your attendance bonus for this month!" I could hardly contain my furious laughter at her outrageous behavior. After hanging up, I immediately sent a recording of the call to the "Executive Inspection" group chat my father set up. Along with it, I sent a message that read, "Is this woman really a member of the upper management at your branch company?"