"Sir, please leave."
Finn Taylor had never in a million years expected that the manager—who had been very kind and friendly just seconds earlier—to chase him away after hearing that he was the Larson family's matrilocal son-in-law.
"So what if I'm that matrilocal son-in-law? I'm here to buy a car. Does it matter what my identity is?"
The manager sneered. 'It's true that it's my principle not to look down on anyone because even the most plainly dressed customer can be secretly wealthy. Unfortunately for you, Finn Taylor, you're really too ordinary. You're so ordinary that there's no way you'll ever have a chance to even prove yourself.'
'Everyone knows that you haven't been allowed to sleep upstairs in the past three years as the Larson family's matrilocal son-in-law. You even have to cook and clean every day. You've done everything remotely possible to humiliate all men. It's embarrassing to even let you stay here.'
