Called out so directly, Mrs. Marshall was naturally displeased. "You'd better explain yourself. Who's keeping a pretty boy?! Did you see it with your own two eyes or something?"
Jean Grant couldn't be bothered to argue with her. "If you won't admit it, then fine. I'm sure the day will come when you have to."
Just as Mrs. Marshall was about to say more, Marlon Marshall came downstairs, and she immediately burst into loud, theatrical sobs.
Marlon was startled to see her crying and hurried over. "Mom, what's wrong? Why are you crying all of a sudden?"
Mrs. Marshall pointed at Jean Grant. "I asked her for a little money, and she refused to give me any."
Hearing this, Marlon asked, "How much do you need? I'll give it to you."
"One million."
Marlon's hand, which was reaching for his wallet, froze. "Mom, one million? What do you need so much money for? Even after buying a car with all that money you got a while ago, there should have been plenty left. Did you spend it all already?"
