Maxwell Peary’s face darkened. What kind of mother talks about her son like that? It’s as if she wished he couldn’t have children. Silvia Waterborne awkwardly rubbed her nose. Oh no, he’s angry. Well, it seems most men are rather sensitive when their manliness is questioned. "Alright, I’ll stop." Silvia Waterborne waved her hand, seeing the look on his face as if he was about to eat her alive. "But you can’t just ignore a potential problem. You’re my son, after all, and I still want to hold... Hey! Hey! Don’t go! I haven’t finished speaking yet!" With a loud thud, Maxwell Peary had already pulled Nia Mitchell back into the room and slammed the door shut. His face was dark, etched with fury. Nia Mitchell swallowed nervously, standing awkwardly to the side as he gripped her wrist. Time seemed to freeze. Her mother-in-law’s voice was no longer audible from outside. Nia turned her head to carefully observe Maxwell Peary’s expression. "Uncle?" she ventured. He grunted unhappily in response. "Don’t mind what Mom said. I’ve never doubted you." She looked at his face earnestly, carefully trying to comfort him. Hearing Nia Mitchell’s words, Maxwell Peary didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He reached out, gave her bottom a light swat, and then pulled her towards the sofa. "How could I dare? You’re Maxwell Peary, incredibly formidable." He always has that cool expression, like some peerless expert. Just look at him now, living in such a luxurious villa, running such an amazing company—who would dare to defy him? Maxwell Peary sat there. Just one glance at her, and he knew she had already roasted him in her mind at least a hundred times. "Mom has left, and I happen to have some time now. Why don’t you invite your friends out? I’ll treat them to a meal so we can get acquainted," Maxwell Peary suggested nonchalantly. Nia Mitchell refused instantly, without a moment’s hesitation. Good heavens, Fiona Sutton still doesn’t know I’m married! If Maxwell Peary were to suddenly show up in front of Fiona... She couldn’t even bear to imagine that scene. Maxwell Peary had known she would refuse, but for her to be so decisive... Ahem. Alright, he had to admit, it made him quite uncomfortable. "What? Am I so unpresentable that I can’t meet people?" Nia Mitchell quickly shook her head. "Of course not! Uncle, you’re so handsome, how could you possibly be unpresentable?" She immediately sat down beside Maxwell Peary, obediently hugging his arm. "It’s just that I haven’t mentioned anything to them before. Suddenly inviting them to dinner without any prior notice would make us seem insincere, don’t you think?" Mm-hmm, that’s a great reason, she was almost convinced by her own argument. Maxwell Peary raised an eyebrow. Who knew this little brain of hers could actually use etiquette as an excuse? "Then let’s do it next week. You tell them in advance." Maxwell Peary didn’t want to delay any longer. Nia Mitchell only had a few good friends, and he intended to win them all over beforehand. Mmm... Especially that one named Fiona Sutton. This girl, Fiona, was very shrewd and wouldn’t be easy to win over. Like Charles Northwood, she had been a close friend of Nia Mitchell’s since high school. He absolutely had to win over all of Nia Mitchell’s other friends before Charles Northwood returned from the USA. "Ah? Won’t next week be too rushed?" Nia Mitchell’s face fell into a woeful expression as she looked pleadingly at Maxwell Peary. A little more time... please, Uncle Max... Maxwell Peary, smiling, shook his head. Non-negotiable. Thɪs chapter is updated by 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹✦𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✦𝓷𝓮𝓽