My Maternity Records Belong to Another Woman novel Chapter 70

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I was the daughter of a mafia boss, but I’d never been one for the blood and bullets.

All I wanted was a normal life.

Now I was twenty–eight and still single, and my dad had had enough.

He gave me an ultimatum: go to the arranged marriage meeting, or stop calling him my father.

Fine.

On my way to the meeting, I passed a luxury boutique and spotted a handbag I really liked.

Just as I was about to pay, a woman suddenly appeared behind me and slammed a black card on the counter.

“I’m taking this bag. Wrap it up.”

I stayed calm. “Sorry, miss. I saw it first.”

She curled her lip. ‘Please. Broke bitch like you? Pathetic.. “A broke bitch like you? Just get lost.”

“I’m Charles Whitmore’s executive assistant,” she added proudly. “Here in Riverton, anything I want is

mine. Don’t get in my way.

Charles Whitmore?

Wasn’t that the man I was supposed to meet today?

I pulled out my phone and called his number. “Charles, your secretary is throwing her weight around out

here. You good with that?”

My dad had been singing Charles’s praises for weeks.

This might be the perfect opportunity to test the man’s character.

If his secretary was this arrogant in public, and he didn’t deal with it, it was a red flag.

But the voice on the other end of the line was ice–cold.

“How I manage my people is none of your business. Stay out of it.”

Before I could even respond, he hung up.

Figures.

Trash always runs in packs.

No wonder his assistant was so brazen,clearly, she had permission to act this way.

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I slept with the wrong person. And on top of that, he’s my boss.

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Bianca Sterling was practically bursting with laughter.

“Trying to social–climb, huh? Take a look in the mirror, honey. Your clothes are screaming poverty. You really think someone like you is worthy of Mr. Whitmore?”

I liked to keep a low profile.

My clothes were plain, my demeanor quiet.

But that didn’t mean I’d let myself be trampled on.

“Judging people by appearance is pathetic. You might want to clean up that filthy mouth of yours before someone else does it for you.”

She wasn’t worth the energy.

I pulled out my card and handed it to the saleswoman. “I’ll take the bag.

The woman looked at me, then at Bianca, hesitating.

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