Seventy-Three Thousand Dollars in Phony Medical Bills, Paid for a Pregnant Replacement
I put the car in drive.
Trent was already sitting at the corner table when I came into the coffee shop on Friday morning, with two paper cups in front of him.
A white pastry bag sat next to the cups, its top folded over twice.
He lifted a hand, the way a man does when he wants credit for some small thing.
“I got you a latte.
Oat milk.