“Excuse me,” I said, turning my attention fully toward her. “I don't understand what that's supposed to mean,”“Did your city run out of men your age? Your class?" Greta sneered. What are you doing with a man like Michael, huh?”Who does she even think she is to ask me stupid questions that have nothing to do with her? As I stared into her cold eyes I saw the undeniable resemblance to my mum. That same elitist pride and look of pure disgust.“What I do with my body and who I choose to be with has absolutely nothing to do with you,” I said, my voice dangerously low, as I locked my glare on her.Greta didn't even flinch, she casually tucked a hair behind her ear and glared right back at me. "Oh it does, baby, it does,” she said, suddenly grinning. “See, I was Miranda's best friend and doctor. You do know Miranda, right? His late wife. She was beautiful, intelligent, confident, and smart. At eighteen, she was already running her father's company, at twenty, she owned her own company. Whe
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