I had already booked a reliable long-distance driver-for-hire service. After paying in advance, I asked him to drive the car I’d brought yesterday back to the underground garage at home.
Then I grabbed my bag, which contained all my important documents: my ID card, marriage certificate and that motor vehicle registration certificate.
On the owner’s line, my name was printed clearly, Anne Wright. It was the car my parents had bought for me, fully paid, before I got married.
After I upgraded to a new car, Liam primarily drove the old one. He drove it with complete ease, probably long forgotten whose car it truly was.
I sat in the hotel lobby lounge, pulled out my phone and without hesitation, called a used car dealer I'd contacted before.
“Bill, it’s me, Anne Wright.”
“You rememeber the car I mentioned earlier? I’m ready to sell it now. Same price we talked about before. Or even a little lower. But I want to close the deal immediately, full payment. The car’s parked in the scenic area lot.”
My voice was calm, without a trace of hesitation. On the other end, Bill clearly paused, but upon hearing my urgency and willingness to negotiate, he quickly agreed.