Harrison was in his office when he received a call of importance.
It was 6 pm. It was, therefore, report time.
“Hello,” the man greeted his caller coolly.
“Hello, Mr. Michaelson. Your wife had a rather quiet day at the penthouse, and then went to a café with a friend of hers.”
Harrison, who was used to telling the man it was his ex-wife each time he made the mistake, was this time around more focused on this friend of hers.
“Male or female?” He asked almost eagerly.
“Oh, a female,” the man deadpanned.
Harrison was annoyed at Mandy’s paramour’s elusive ways. He wanted a picture, a name – a full name, anything, and just something to go on from. Something more than just Sam.
“And the woman looked possibly pregnant,” the man who had been shadowing Mandy said.
“Who?” Harrison
