ADVERTISEMENT
blood draining from my face.
“Seventy-five thousand,” my father clapped Marcus on the back. “Good work, son. That’s more than I thought that dump was worth.”
He looked at my horrified expression and scoffed. “What’s wrong with you now, Ammani? It’s junk. Be grateful for the seventy-five thousand. It’s seventy-five thousand more than continue reading …
ADVERTISEMENT