Seventy-Three Thousand Dollars in Phony Medical Bills, Paid for a Pregnant Replacement
David reached into his drawer for a date stamp.
“You want the car as well.”
“I want the car, the house, and the fifty thousand.”
The stamp hit the first page hard enough to rattle his pen cup.
“We’re not going through family court, David.
We’re evicting them as corporate squatters,” I said.
He didn’t smile.
He drew the page back and checked the stamp.
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