The Problems of the Rich

Carroll rubbed my head dotingly. "You can but not in front of Robben." Watching Robben disappear from the stairs, I couldn't help but pout. "The men of the Brown family have the problems of the rich." "What problems?" Carroll knitted his eyebrows slightly. "The stomach pain, paranoia, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. Robben adds a taboo." I counted my fingers seriously and then added, "Oh, mysophobia. Does he have mysophobia?" "Up to you." Smiling, Carroll pinched my face. Harris appeared with a pile of documents in his arms. At the sight of me, he instantly shut up. I sighed, pulled my foot back from Carroll, and muttered in a low voice, "This can't be mentioned, and that can't be heard. I'll leave. I'll leave now." Carroll burst into laughter. He pulled me into his arms. "You're the matriarch. What can't you know?" "Really? Isn't he going to say some business secrets?" I made a face at Carroll. I knew that Harris was in charge of the investigation of the bombs at the gathering, so