Cecilia's face grew pallid.

Rena took a sip of her tea and smiled as she remarked, "I did not extend the invitation. She insisted on coming over to offer her apologies... Uncle, the older generation tends to be more conservative."

Mark glanced at Cecilia and she returned his gaze.

Neither of them had anticipated that the folly of those six months would persist until this day.

Finally, Mark said softly, "Let us depart."

Cecilia refused to share a car with him. She insisted on traveling in her own vehicle. Rena mentioned that she would change her attire and join them later...

After the two cars departed, Rena made a call to Waylen, instructing him to proceed to the Fowlers’ residence.

Thirty minutes later, Mark's car arrived, coincidentally encountering Zoey at the entrance of the Fowlers' grand abode.

Zoey made quite an entrance. A convoy of 18 sleek black vehicles accompanied her, along with a dozen attendants bearing lavish gifts. While the intention was to offer an apology, it seemed more like a marriage proposal.

Despite Mark's remarkable achievements in his professional life, he remained deeply respectful towards his mother.

Helpless, he could only endure Zoey's piercing glare.

The Fowler residence was an expansive estate, capable of accommodating twenty cars without issue. Suddenly, the premises were filled with a fleet of vehicles.

As the butler made his report, Korbyn found amusement in playing with Edwin on the Lawn.

Edwin gleefully chased after a ball, seemingly immune to the concept of weariness.

Upon hearing the butler's words, Korbyn lit a cigarette, leisurely releasing smoke rings into the air.

“Allow them to enter."

Korbyn believed it was time for them to meet this little boy.

The butler promptly went to invite Zoey and Mark, wearing a smile as he addressed them, "Mr. Fowler is currently engaged in play with young Mr. Fowler. Over there is a pavilion, Mrs. Evans and Mr. Evans. You may find them there."

Zoey immediately led her son towards the designated area.

With a cigarette dangling from his lips, Korbyn observed their approach from a distance.

Humph!

He still recalled the first time Mark set foot in the Fowler residence, exuding an aura as if he intended to raze it to the ground. Yet today... Mark trailed behind his mother, adopting a more subservient demeanor.