New York, USA. The time was 2 PM, and the woman that I was waiting for was one hour late. She was never on time since the moment I could remember. Unless the events are extremely important, like meeting the President or some senator or other billionaires, Ophelia Stewards was never on time, especially not when meeting her own daughter. I knew this well. She had been consistent, and that was why I brought a laptop to work and waited at this small café near Central Park. I flew to New York once a month for business, and I had to meet her. She insisted on that. Despite always being late, my mother was a good company. Ivy league educated, speaking five languages, impeccable manners, stylist beyond words, and inherited massive wealth from my grandfather, a real-estate tycoon, as his favorite daughter. She was a socialite and a savvy businesswoman, and other than being my mother, she was
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