"You wouldn't know him even if I told you. He's just some obscure model. But you can look him up online. His name is Howard."
The moment Nate Jennings finished speaking, Chelsea Jennings grabbed her phone, opened her browser, and started searching. "How do you spell that?"
"..." Nate Jennings rolled her eyes at her. "H-O-W-A-R-D. Are you illiterate or something?"
"You..." Chelsea Jennings was so angry she was speechless. She wanted nothing more than to rip Nate's mouth off.
"Dad, look, I found him. He really is just some obscure model," Chelsea Jennings said, holding the phone out to Old Master Jennings as if trying to score points.
By now, Old Master Jennings was so furious his mustache was practically bristling. His back was ramrod straight, and so much force had gathered in his palm that it seemed he might slap his unfilial daughter across the face at any second.
"When did you meet him?" he asked coldly.
