The Wrong Woman

Michaela delivered a firm admonition, stating, "In this world, any woman is welcome, except for Candice Morrison."
However, it wasn't that Michaela bore any animosity toward Candice.
On the contrary, she held a deep affection for her, treating her with the same love and care as if she were her own
granddaughter.
Her apprehensions arose from a fear of Candice getting hurt, concerns about tarnishing her family's reputation, and anxieties
regarding the potential strain it might place on the relationship between their two families.
Despite these concerns, Michaela appeared indifferent to Elio's happiness.
Throughout, she had vehemently opposed his relationship with Candice, resorting to extreme measures.
Elio had spent half his life compromising, but he had reached his breaking point.
He was determined to live life on his own terms.
If Candice were willing to embrace him and stand by his side despite the world's opposition, he wouldn't hesitate for a moment.
"My personal affairs are none of your concern," Elio responded sharply to Michaela's probing.
Michaela's anger flared as she persisted, "But what about Josie? After all these years together, are you going to abandon her for
Candice?"
Elio's frustration erupted as he fired back, "Josie and I were never a couple. If it weren't for your insistence, I wouldn't have
begged her to pretend to be my first love."
Michaela's astonishment was evident. "Pretend? Your relationship with Josie was fake?"
A bitter, rueful smile tugged at Elio's lips.
Recalling the time when his hidden affection for Candice was exposed, he found himself confronted with threats and coercion
from his family.
Feeling trapped, Elio realized he had no option but to resort to drastic measures.
"Elio, you've disappointed me greatly!" Michaela declared, her voice trembling with anger.

Unmoved, Elio responded, "I'm busy. Unless it's urgent, don't bother calling."
With that, he ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket.
He lowered his head, lost in thought.
In his world, the only person who could stop him from being with Candice was Candice herself.
He couldn't care less about anyone else.
In the ensuing days, Candice found herself increasingly occupied as the event unfolded.
It was the apex moment in the fashion industry, attracting live coverage from major media outlets.
Throughout the event, Candice had the privilege of meeting numerous globally acclaimed designers.
For a novice designer like herself, this fashion spectacle proved to be an immensely enriching experience.
Seated at the front, Candice found herself positioned right next to Elio.
At that moment, she felt grateful for their connection, which afforded her certain privileges.
As the event wrapped up successfully, the celebratory banquet swiftly ensued.
Managing his duties as the CEO of ND Group, Elio found little time to spare.
Meanwhile, Candice held an aversion to attending banquets.
Much like her mother, she prefinet seeking out a secluded corner where she could quietly relish her meal.
Once she finished eating, she would briefly mingle before discreetly slipping away.
At the celebratory banquet, Candice found herself amidst a crowd of unfamiliar faces from around the world, heightening her
social unease. Despite her discomfort, her sweet appearance seemed to attract a series of peculiar men who were eager to
engage her in conversation. Unable to endure the situation any longer, she quietly left the scene without alerting anyone.
Summoning a taxi, she made her way back to the hotel.
As she stepped into the lobby, two foreigners rose from the couches, swiftly moving to intercept her.

Speaking in their native language, they asked, "Excuse us, are you Candice Morrison?"
Taken aback, Candice cautiously retreated a step, replying in the same language, "Who are you? What do you want from me?"
Gesturing toward the entrance, the foreigners said, "Your friend is waiting outside and wants to see you."
Candice hesitated, glancing nervously over her shoulder.
"Come with us," they insisted.
Candice's instincts screamed danger, propelling her into a sprint toward the front desk,”Please,call the police!" she urgently
blurted out.
Before her plea could fully register, the two men behind her surged forward, seizing her and muffling her cries. With a swift
motion, they lifted her onto their shoulders and made a dash for the exit.
The receptionist's voice rang out in panic, "Put the lady down immediately! If you don't release her, I'll call the police!"
Out of fear, the receptionists refrained from impulsively chasing the foreigners, mindful of the potential that they might be armed.
Instead, they quickly grabbed the landline phone to report the situation to the authorities.