MARION

The showroom smelled like leather, new upholstery, and money. I stood with my car dealer, a man who had made more from me in commissions than he probably deserved, but loyalty was something I valued.

“So, the Mercedes A-Class. This is A35. Fully loaded,” he said, tapping the glossy hood. “Olive, sleek, AMG styling. Seventy-five thousand, give or take with customization.”

“Good. Do the paperwork,” I said, already pulling out my black titanium card. “I want it delivered ...