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
“Owen what?”
“Mercer.”
She paused.
She knew the Mercer name because Gianna had once served her lunch at the Pine Creek Diner.
“That woman’s son?”
I hated the way she said it.
“What woman?”
“The waitress.”