My Wealthy Parents Disowned Me for Marrying a Poor Mechanic—Then on Our Wedding Night, He Handed Me an Envelope He’d Hidden for 11 Months
Beatrice noticed everything that could affect appearances.
“Who is the boy?”
“What boy?”
“The one who waits near your locker.”
I looked up from breakfast.
“He’s a friend.”
“His name?”
“Owen.”
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