CHAPTER 95

Fredrick

There were strangers in the foyer of my father’s grand mansion that I did not want there.

The elite of the elite standing around the gold and silver studded foyer of our expansive driveway so that it looked like I was some sporangia admiring the carnage in a shark tank.

“If it isn't Frederick McKenzie, the mogul’s little brother, Always a pleasure to see the little ones fostering,” Don Baron laughed coarsely, the stubbled folds of his quadruple chin vibrating so hard I reared back, afraid some animal might leap through the folds onto my crepe gold suit.

”Baron, I’m afraid I can't say the same, appears you might have been stuffing more than your face,” I gritted impassively. Letting my eyes rest on the folds of his belly that had sagged so far down from his badly designed monkey- jacket that pressed up against his tree-trunk knees.

“Now hold on a minute,” Don Baron stammered, raising one plump index that had reddened worryingly at the tips and I watched as the stout man’s face