“For the hundredth time, you cannot talk to my children that way,” he clipped as he strangled the steering wheel. “I’m handling the situation, Christian. It’s what I do.” I pulled down the visor and checked my lipstick in the mirror. “You don’t like it? Well, too damn bad. Fire me.” “She’s a child,” he said. “You can’t treat her like she’s… Like she’s one of the upper-crust socialites you have to ‘contain.’” I turned on him. “Your daughter is getting bullied by an adult. Celebrity or not, assholes are assholes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do I even want to know what you’re about to
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