To the outside world, Claire was the PTA’s golden goose. She organized the bake sales, never missed a recital, and always had a warm, vanilla-scented smile for the mailman. But her son, Leo, a perceptive fifteen-year-old with his father’s quiet eyes, knew something was off.
It started with the drawer.
Johnny slipped a folded napkin back. “Blue chip. Minimum buy-in is fifty thousand.” naughty mommy juicy secrets