Imposter’s Blues
I quickly deactivated Max’s supplementary card.
On Saturday, Max took my custom blue Santana from the garage, trying to maintain his pretentious image.
"Max, your car is so cool!"
He basked in the compliments, clearly enjoying the flattery. Lately, he’d heard so much praise it probably started to feel routine.
Since it was the weekend, I planned to relax. I booked an appointment at the most scenic spa in the city.
Unfortunately, I forgot the restaurant and the spa were located in the same area—Goldenrod Manor, prime real estate owned by my family. For convenience, I’d decided to establish both venues there.
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