Parked before the towering fence of the Clarks' Residence was a red Tesla — basking in the soft rays of the setting sun.
Gabriel leaned off his seat to peek at the letters carved into the Clarks' metal gate.
"I never thought the Clarks had friends sufficient enough to let stay at their estate."
Karen shrugged. "Old ties." Her lie was unhinged.
Just like all the false tales she had narrated to Gabriel all afternoon.
From the fabricated childhood of lavish life in Belgium, down to her ordinary college days at an esteemed university — where she met an associate who later introduced her to the Clarks.
And while her story was believable as one born into the elite society, Gabriel, for once, did not question nor attempt to interrogate her narration — he listened keenly down to the very end.
His gaze then returned to her figure. "Well, it's good to know the Clarks are capable of sustaining human relations."
"Hmph… Barely," Karen crossed her arms.
