Tiffany turned around and took off. Unlike the past, her eyes were dry this time. Her tears had run their course when she was waiting for him to come home...
“She’s not my mistress. She’s my dad’s!”
Tiffany’s heavy footsteps screeched to a halt. She definitely, positively, absolutely did not expect that.
She turned and faced Jackson with an expression of abject disbelief. Her first thought was that this was yet another lie, but to push his own father into the pyre would be a little too unscrupulous, even for him. That was not counting the fact that it sounded too downright ludicrous to be believed. Ironically, this meant that Jackson was telling the truth... right?
“Your dad’s mistress? Why would your dad’s mistress keep grinding herself on you, huh?” Tiffany questioned skeptically. “Why do you keep visiting her in her hotel? Why wouldn’t she take a five-star hotel's breakfast buffet instead of insisting that you personally deliver breakfast to her, which, holy sh*t, you actually did as she asked! And then there was that day in the mall, I spotted the two of you together! And that stupid fur coat she was wearing just now was bought on that day itself! Hell, you even pressed her to the door of the changing room — urgh, God knows if you were smooching her!”
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