The S Class I Raised Novels & Stories

Three tables away, their harsh gazes locked onto me. "I can't believe a whore like that is attending my driving class," another one snarls, crossing her arms. And I recognize her. She follows her son who is learning driving. My hands begin to shake. Beside me, Dean’s face darkens instantly. "I think we should leave, Eleanor." Dean remarks. "What does a billionaire like Mr. Wellington see in a classless buffoon like her anyway?" Another adds. Dean slams his hand on the table and stands up, lifting his phone toward them.

After that, they led me to the parking lot to unveil the vehicle. It was an obsidian black Mercedes-Benz S class parked in front of the sweeping marble steps. The front chrome was curvy, and the front grille was imposing. The customer license plate read, CHMN THOMPSON HOSPITAL INTL” “Dad, mom, thank you so much.” I said again, almost on the brink of tears, rushing towards both of them at once for a joint and even tighter round of embrace. A few moments later, the mansion buzzed with life as the patriarch and the matriarch of the family came to pay us a visit.