Mark, Ainslie's father, rose from his seat, his expression a mix of anticipation and worry. He left the dining room and made his way towards the living room, with the rest of the family following closely behind. As they entered the living room, the sight before them caught Anslie's parents off guard. Anslie stood a few feet away from the door, her luggage boxes by her side, a mixture of determination and vulnerability in her eyes. Mark couldn't help but voice his surprise and confusion. "What are you doing here?" Mark asked, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and curiosity. Anslie took a step forward, closing the distance between her and her family. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before responding. "I don't have a house anymore, Father," she admitted, her voice filled with a hint of resignation. "I…" Before Anslie could continue, her words trailed off involuntarily. The atmosphere in the room shifted as her family's attention was drawn towards the open
Without hesitating, she delivered a swift kick to his side, jolting him awake."You stinky pig! Get off my couch!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with frustration and disdain. Bryson, still groggy from his unintended nap, rubbed his eyes and looked up at Ainslie, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. "Where can I sleep?" he managed to utter, his voice laced with sleepiness. Ainslie's eyes narrowed, her anger mounting. "You will sleep on the floor, moron!" she snapped, her tone sharp and cutting. The force of her words rendered Bryson momentarily speechless, his mouth agape as he struggled to comprehend her harsh response. Despite Ainslie's intense glare, Bryson managed to regain his voice, his tone tinged with disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" he questioned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Ainslie's stare intensified, her eyes narrowing with irritation. "Are you mad? Does it look like I'm kidding? Do you see me smiling?" she retorted sharply, her words dripping
The unexpected action left Bryson startled and bewildered, as he struggled to regain his composure. His confusion turned into anger as he looked up to see Dulgad smiling, his expression filled with an unpleasant satisfaction. The sight irked him, exacerbating the unpleasantness of the situation."Hey, good-for-nothing brother-in-law, that's where you ought to be. On the floor," Dulgad spat, his words laced with disdain. "Who the hell gave you the audacity to think that you will be able to dine with us, you mediocre?" Bryson's frustration grew, and he couldn't help but retort, his voice tinged with anger, "So, you pulled the chair on purpose, Dulgad?" Dulgad's smirk widened, clearly finding amusement in Bryson's discomfort. He exchanged a glance with Miranda, who was holding back her laughter, further fueling Bryson's indignation."Obviously, Bryson. Are you blind?" Dulgad responded, his tone dripping with condescension. Bryson's face flushed with a mixture of anger and humiliat
Rose couldn't help but clutch the edge of the table tightly, her knuckles turning white as she watched Bryson disappear from her sight. A mix of worry, frustration, and disappointment clouded her expression. She shifted her gaze to Ainslie, her eyes filled with both sadness and anger."Your good-for-nothing husband does have pride, and I'm disgusted at it," Rose uttered with a hint of disdain, her voice tinged with disappointment. Ainslie, feeling the weight of her mother's words, hung her head in shame. "Sorry, Mom," Ainslie murmured, her voice tinged with annoyance. "I will talk to him and make him understand.""You better do," Mark interjected sharply. His tone was firm, reflecting his frustration and anger towards Bryson. "He now lives under my roof, and I won't tolerate his impudence. He shouldn't give us an attitude here, or I'll kick his ass out of my house. I hope I'm making myself clear?" His words were laced with a warning, a clear indication that he expected compliance
Later in the day, Ainslie stepped out of the bustling photo shooting hall in the agency, her energy depleted. She navigated her way through the busy corridors, seeking solace in the familiar confines of the dressing room. With a heavy sigh, she closed the door behind her, ready to retouch her makeup and gather herself. As she stood before the well-lit vanity mirror, her eyes met the reflection of her weary face. Lines of exhaustion etched across her features, and she couldn't help but lament her current state. "Gosh, I look bad now," she whined softly, her voice filled with self-criticism. Lost in her thoughts, she was momentarily unaware of the presence that entered the room."Gosh, I need to relieve myself of the day's stress or I'll burn out," Ainslie mused aloud, her words tinged with a hint of desperation. It was at that moment that a voice, gentle and familiar, interrupted her internal monologue."I can help you, darling," the voice offered, breaking through the silence of t
Bryson was taken aback by the audacity of Dulgad's order. His surprise quickly transformed into a stoic expression, masking his growing frustration. He couldn't believe Dulgad had the nerve to treat him like a servant and command him to do their laundry.His voice firm and resolute, Bryson replied, "The servants are around. I won't do your laundry for you." He stood up, his posture indicating his refusal to comply. Observing Bryson's defiance, Dulgad's demeanor changed. Unbuttoning his vest, he stepped forward, a challenging glint in his eyes. "You'll do it, Bryson," he declared, his tone laced with arrogance. Bryson's expression hardened. Folding up his sleeves, he stood his ground, determined not to back down. "I want to see you try to force me," he retorted, his voice filled with defiance. "I repeat, I won't do it..." Before Bryson could continue, Ainslie's voice suddenly reverberated through the room, cutting through the tension. "Do it, Bryson!" she commanded, her tone fo
Stuttering slightly, Ainslie asked, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and disbelief, "Y-you mean, you're the one who bought these houses, Clinton?""Yeah, I did so a couple of days ago," Clinton replied, his tone expressing a touch of pride. Ainslie's mind raced, trying to process the information. She mustered up the courage to ask the next question, her voice still tinged with stuttering uncertainty, "Y-you bought them for... how much?""Just fifty million dollars," Clinton responded casually as if it were a mere triviality. Ainslie gasped, her hand instinctively covering her mouth in shock. "Y-you... goodness, why would you purchase them?" Clinton looked at Ainslie with a tender smile. "Honestly, it was only until yesterday that I got to know that you and Bryson lived here before. I could see how much this house meant to you, and I wanted to do something special for you." Ainslie's eyes welled up with tears as she struggled to find the right words. "I... I cherish th
As he moved further into the house, Bryson's ears caught a faint sound—moanings that seemed out of place and filled the air with an uncomfortable tension. His gaze flicked towards the nearby room, his heart pounding in his chest. The realization of what might be happening behind that closed door began to dawn on him, filling him with a mix of anger, hurt, and a desire to uncover the truth. Summoning all his courage, Bryson approached the room, his footsteps growing heavier with every stride. With a deep breath, he pushed the door open, bracing himself for the confrontation that awaited him on the other side. To Bryson's greatest shock and dismay, as he entered the room, he was met with the heart-wrenching sight of his wife, Ainslie, riding another man atop the bed. Their intimate encounter had them both engrossed in the act, unaware of Bryson's presence until he let out a groan of disbelief and anguish. A groan escaped his lips, causing Ainslie to abruptly jump off the man's b