Morton shot his daughter a fulminating look before turning to Darya. ‘If it’s not money you want, name a price, any price.’
Darya crossed her legs and smiled. ‘I know you’ve been getting in on years, but I didn’t know you were suffering from hearing problems.’
‘What did you say?’ Morton’s nostrils flared.
Darya pointed to her own ears. ‘I said, you might consider booking an appointment with an otolaryngologist. I happen to know someone who specialises in that area. I could give you his contact number if you want.’
Felicia looked blankly at her father. ‘What’s she talking about?’
Morton stared at his daughter, incredulous.
He had always known she wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he couldn’t believe she was so dense as not to understand such an obvious insult.
