Dear CEO, I Want a Divorce
“Seriously, Eli, now you’re involving Sylvester in your drama? He’s eighty, he should be relaxing, not rescuing you from bad situations you create yourself!”
The comment hung in the air. Sharp. Mean.
Sylvester turned his head toward Natalie, slowly.
“My dear,” he said, voice calm but with an edge, “I’ve been eighty for precisely one day. It hasn’t killed me yet.”
Anthony blinked, suppressing a smile.
Sylvester went on, “And I assure you, if my age stops me from walking into a room and speaking my mind, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, perhaps your young age should stop you from speaking out of turn, yes?”
Bab Populer