"Daphne is so outstanding, there must still be a chance, right? As long as they're not married yet." Mr. Wells, Daphne's father, didn't want to let go of this golden opportunity.

Upon hearing that he had opened his own hospital, Daphne's parents rushed into the city to support their daughter. It proved the old saying: A family that doesn't work together doesn't stay together. "Please go back, immediately, right now!" Daphne roared, on the verge of a mental breakdown. "I know you didn't come here for a checkup! If you really want a checkup, please do it at the county hospital!" As she spoke, she took out her phone and immediately contacted her younger brother, asking him to take their parents for a checkup. She would cover the expenses.

Her parents were frightened. "What's wrong with you? Why are you so angry?" "Mom, Dad, go back!" Daphne dragged them away. "Leave me alone, I'm tired." Then, without any courtesy, she sent them away with the bags they had brought.

Her temper and alienation frightened Mr. and Mrs. Wells. They didn't dare confront their daughter because they felt she had become a different person. Was this still their filial daughter? They took a cab downstairs and asked the driver to take them to the bus station.

Daphne stood alone in the cold early winter wind, her eyes filled with tears, and her emotions nearly collapsing again.

Her head ached, her hair was a mess, and she had taken a lot of sleeping pills recently. She felt her body couldn't take it anymore.

Back in her rented room, she opened another bottle of wine.

What is love in this world?

It was something that could make people worry, exhaust them, and make them want to trade their lives for it. She had liked Rowan since she was a child!

She didn't want to give him up to anyone more than anyone else!

What Daphne couldn't understand the most was that she didn't think Claire was better than her!

Was it only when Claire died that Rowan would take a closer look at her?

Because of her deep obsession, Daphne's thoughts were twisted. In just a few days, she had become depressed to the extreme, and her mental state had somewhat deteriorated. For an entire day, Daphne turned off her phone and didn't go out.

At noon.

In a hotel suite not far from the Clarke Corp, the room was spacious and cost several thousand a night.

Monica stared at the long row of exquisite bags on the sofa, containing clothes, shoes, hats, and some accessories, as well as food and other things.

By a rough calculation, she knew she owed Tristan a lot of money.

She had no money in her phone, and her commonly used cards were in her suitcase, which was still in Canada.

Finally, it was nine o'clock in the evening.

Not only had she not received a call from Tristan, but she hadn't even received a single Facebook message!

What was happening?

Could it be that he was so busy that he had to work overtime?

Or had he forgotten about her?

Monica took a shower, put on her pajamas, curled up on the sofa, picked up her phone hesitantly, and made a bold move by making a video call to him on Facebook! It was a daring act, not caring what he was doing or whether it was convenient.

The phone rang for a little while.

Tristan answered. The girl was a bit nervous, but she overcame it and stared at him. "Where are you?" She was sure it wasn't his office.

"At home." Tristan was wearing a bathrobe, having already taken a shower.

The room was large, and the decor was simple and unique.

Monica shifted her focus to him, staring at his handsome side face as he bent down to tidy up the coffee table. The camera was pointed at him, but he didn't look at the screen. "What are you doing?" she asked again.

"Nothing." As his words fell, Tristan picked up the remote and turned on the wall projector, then sat down on the sofa. He was watching TV.

Monica heard the sound coming from the TV and found him strange. He never looked at the screen, so she asked, "You... don't you come to see me after work?"

It was only then that Tristan looked at her, his handsome eyebrows slightly furrowed, as if he didn't understand her meaning.

From his distant gaze, Monica felt that they were not on the same wavelength. She was waiting for him, but he hadn't thought about coming at all!

"I... I mean..." Monica stammered, struggling to replace her words. She rephrased, "I mean, you helped me check into the hotel and bought me so many clothes. Shouldn't we settle the accounts? How much do I owe you? I just want to know."

"How about it?" Tristan asked indifferently, "Can you pay it back now?"

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