"Tristan, did you just say I'm being unreasonable?" Michaela shouted furiously. The line went dead from the other end. Michaela, still seething, hurled her phone across the room, shattering it. Yet, even this violent act couldn't quell her anger. She felt deeply disrespected by both Elio and Tristan. Now, even Mila and Jasper had kept her in the dark. The thought that everyone closest to her was drifting away because of Candice's marriage filled her with profound disappointment. Picking up the two shattered phones, Josie approached and sat beside Michaela, gently consoling her, "Mrs. Hoffis, don't be upset. You must take care of your health. We can address Leo's marriage gradually." "Josie, do you have any suggestions?" Michaela asked, her voice edged with desperation. Josie shook her head, looking equally frustrated. Just then, Mila walked briskly into the room, her voice calm and soothing. "Nothing will work." Hearing her voice, both women turned to look at Mila. S

Mervyn nodded. "Yeah, it doesn't matter anymore." "What are you talking about?" Candice asked, confused. "Why don't I understand?"Elio smiled gently and whispered, "You don't need to understand. Come on, let's have a drink with Mom and Dad.""Okay." Candice picked up her glass of juice, waved goodbye to Mervyn, and walked toward Michaela and Tristan. Mervyn watched as they walked away, unable to resist taking another big gulp of his drink. Michaela was sitting gracefully in her wheelchair, maintaining her usual elegance. Elio and Candice approached and greeted politely, "Mom, Dad, let's toast." Michaela forced a smile, her gaze on Candice was affectionate yet lacking genuine approval and admiration. Deep down, she believed Candice wasn't capable enough for Elio. Nonetheless, it didn't affect their relationship, as no one cared about Michaela's opinion. On the other hand, Tristan was delighted. He raised his glass enthusiastically, showering them with blessings and well

The summer heat in Phoenicia was scorching, leaving the streets almost deserted. A figure dressed in a giant frog costume hurried to the café entrance. She set down her pile of little frogs in a corner and removed her heavy frog head, revealing her sweat-drenched but beautiful features. Glazing up at the signboard, she blinked and anxiously muttered, "This must be the place." Hugging the frog's head, she walked in and looked around. There was only one young man in the entire café. From a distance, he appeared strikingly handsome with an air of elegance and sophistication. "The quality of this setup was high," she thought. No wonder her mother warned her not to come back home if she still couldn't get married this time. Breathless, she walked over, sat down in front of the man, and apologized politely, "I'm sorry, I was chased by the city officials because of my job. I got lost and ended up being half an hour late. I'm so sorry." At the sound of her voice, Jasper looked

Imogen couldn't help but smile, her eyes twinkling with happiness. After so many blind dates with countless men, they always found something to criticize about Imogen—her family's poverty, her education level, or her personality. It seemed they could always find a flaw. This was the first time Imogen met someone who genuinely appreciated her, and it didn't hurt that he was handsome too. Although Asher's family wasn't wealthy either, they were well-matched. Neither could look down on the other. Moreover, Aunt Eloise, who had married into his hometown, vouched for him, praising his honesty, capability, and good character. He seemed like perfect husband material. Blushing slightly, Imogen's voice softened. "I’m quite satisfied with you too. How about we get our marriage license?" Jasper was taken aback. "A marriage license? We've just met. Shouldn't we get to know each other first?" Imogen shrugged. "It's all about living together. We can make do, and the days will pass."

Imogen logged into her laptop, accessing the backend of her online store to review the completed orders. There were none. However, there were numerous unanswered inquiries. She diligently responded to each one and after waiting for a moment, there were no new customers, no orders rolled in, and the inquiries dried up. Switching to another interface, Imogen confronted lines of densely packed code and data structures for unmanned rockets. Troubled, she rested her head on her hand, lost in thought for a while before finally starting to type, coding away. Two hours passed in intense concentration on her coding, followed by three more after dinner. Later that night, she completed her work and sent it out. After five hours of relentless effort, she earned three thousand dollars. Imogen, who did not have a formal education, was often undervalued by others despite her talent. Sometimes, it brought her close to tears. Closing her laptop, Imogen stretched as she headed to the bathroom.