Don calmly prepared himself to go through customs, clutching his suitcase tightly and proceeding into the interior of the building around the airbase.


    Meanwhile, in the tranquilmunity of Chanel Hills, a new day was dawning at the Brights'' residence.


    Chanel Hills was an idyllic neighborhood characterized by its trimmedwns, stately homes, and tree-lined streets. Each house gave off a sense of elegance and timelessness, with well-tended gardens and pristine streets.


    The Brights'' home stood out even among these beautiful homes, being arge, colonial-style house with white pirs and a big front porch.


    Inside, Samantha Bright was already preparing for her busy day.


    Samantha was a vision of mature beauty, her blonde hair tied into a neat ponytail that highlighted her other features well. Her blue eyes, framed by stylish sses, were incredibly innocent looking. Despite that, she had a voluptuous, curvy figure that filled out her tailored suit in a way that was both professional and undeniably sexy.


    The white button-up shirt she wore clung to her ample bosom, and the zer added a touch of professional style to her look. Her skirt was perfectly fitted, hugging her hips and thighs, while her pantyhose entuated the shapeliness of her legs. Her office shoespleted the outfit, adding an extra inch to her height and a click to her step.


    Samantha currently stood in the kitchen, a modern space with granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and arge ind in the center. She was carefully packing two sets of lunches in a hurried manner, as ifte.


    She paused to check the time on her watch, letting out a sigh before turning her head to the door.


    "Summer!" she called out, her voice echoing through the house. When there was no response, she called again, louder this time. "Summer!!"


    Eventually, a girl appeared at the kitchen doorway. She was Summer Bright.


    She had inherited her mother''s blonde hair and blue eyes but wore her beauty with a rebellious twist. Her hair was tied into a messy ponytail, and she had a lean but toned curvy figure that was very well showcased by her outfit.


    It was a school uniform that was in disorder,posed of a white button-up shirt with several buttons undone to reveal a hint of cleavage, a loose red tie that seemed more like a fashion statement than part of a uniform, a dark blue skirt that stopped well above her knees, ck leggings with straps that disappeared under her skirt, and white runners that added a casual touch.


    She crossed her arms and frowned, clearly annoyed by her mother.


    "What is it, Mom?" Summer asked in a tone that was rude and impatient.


    This made Samantha put her hands on her hips, her frown deepening. "Do you know what time it is, youngdy?"


    Summer shrugged, her nonchnce only fueling her mother''s irritation.


    "Is that supposed to be your uniform?" Samantha asked, her eyes narrowing as she took in her daughter''s disheveled appearance.


    "No one actually follows the dress code," Summer retorted, rolling her eyes. "Did you call me here just to ask that? I''m in a hurry and my friends are already waiting outside."


    Samantha''s frown didn''t fade. "I hope you don''t mean those delinquents who add nothing of value to your life."


    Summer rolled her eyes again and slumped her shoulders as ifpletely uninterested in what her mother had to say. "You''re thest person who should be giving advice on how to judge people," she shot back, her words stinging.


    Samantha''s expression turned to one of shock, unable to find an immediate rebuttal. Before she could recover, a car horn sounded from outside and Summer gave her mother onest look before turning on her heel and walking out.


    Samantha watched her go with a mix of concern and frustration swirling within her. She took a deep breath and returned to packing the lunches while shaking her head, trying to push aside the unease Summer''s words caused her.


    Today was just another day in the Bright household, full of unspoken problems and unresolved conflicts.


    As Samantha stood in the kitchen, she was lost in thought about what to do with Summer as the tension between them seemed to grow each day, and she couldn''t help but worry about her daughter''s future.


    Her contemtion was interrupted by the loud ringing of her phone from the living room.


    The living room was spacious yet cozy, decorated in warm tones of beige and brown. It had plush sofas arranged around a coffee table, and arge firece was the focal point of the room. Family photos and tasteful artwork adorned the walls, giving the space a personal touch.


    "Oh fiddle," Samantha cursed under her breath, setting down the food she had been preparing. "What now?"


    She walked into the living room and picked up her phone from the side table, quickly checking the caller ID. It read, "Isabe - VPC."


    ''Why is Isabe calling this early?'' Samantha thought, ''she always has something to say, and always in that condescending tone of hers.''


    She took a deep breath and answered the call.


    Isabe didn''t bother with a greeting. "How far away from work are you?" she demanded, her tone incredibly bossy.


    Samantha frowned at her rudeness. "I haven''t started off yet," she replied truthfully, though she thought it was none of Isabe''s business.


    Isabe''s voice immediately rose in anger. "You aren''t paid to lounge around home like some pregnant woman just because you look the part! I need the quarterly financial report of your team immediately. Email it to me now, and if you''rete, you''ll be reported!"


    Before Samantha could respond, Isabe ended the call.


    Samantha frowned even more, feeling helpless and frustrated. She sighed and slipped her phone back into her bag. ''Ever since Isabe got the Vice President of Innovations position, she''s been a thorn in everyone''s side. If it weren''t for Mr. Thompson being an absolute creep, it would have been me in that position instead of her.''


    Taking a deep breath, Samantha reminded herself, "I''m better than that. I won''t let her get to me. It''s what she wants." She squared her shoulders and left the living room, walking toward her home office.


    The home office was on the ground floor, a quiet space filled with bookshelves, arge wooden desk, and afortable ergonomic chair. The walls were lined with certificates and awards, along with other items that showed her hard work and achievements.


    Settling into her chair, Samantha turned on herputer and quickly navigated to her emails. She found the report Isabe had requested and sent it immediately. As she scanned her inbox for any new emails, she noticed an email from an unfamiliar source.


    "I thought I had blocked all spam," she muttered to herself as she narrowed her eyes at the screen.


    She opened the email and began reading.


    As she scrolled through the contents, her eyes went wide in disbelief.


    "It can''t be…"