Chapter 480

After Wilmer took off, she wandered over to the big window and gazed out at the city below.

Juliet showed up with a vacuum cleaner and started cleaning up the hair on the floor. "Ms. Taylor, what's on your mind?" Juliet asked, curious.

Isabella turned around and sighed, "Oh, just thinking about how crazy scientists can be sometimes."

Juliet looked confused. "Do you really think hair can grow in just 8 hours, Ms. Taylor?"

Isabella thought for a moment and then nodded. "As wild as it sounds, I trust Wilmer. He doesn't seem like the lying type."

Juliet got excited. "If this hair thing hits the market, can I get some first? My dad's obsessed with his thinning hair."

Isabella raised an eyebrow. "Is your dad really that obsessed with his hair?"

Juliet nodded with a wry smile. "Oh, he's obsessed. His hair's thinning so much, he can count each strand. I doubt anyone else names each hair out of boredom."

Juliet mimicked her dad, holding a strand of hair and pretending to cry, "Oh no, Parker fell out yesterday, and now Hamira's gone too! Why are they jumping ship? I can't even wear a hat or go outside, afraid a gust of wind will blow my buddies away."

Isabella burst into laughter, leaning on the table. "Your dad's hilarious."

Juliet stopped her act and shrugged. "You know, right? I do it to keep him happy."

After sharing a good laugh, Isabella, feeling more relaxed, told Juliet, "Before we leave, I'll call Wilmer to clarify. I need to confirm if hair follicles can sprout on a scalp with dead ones."

Juliet joyfully hugged Isabella. "You're my good luck charm, Ms. Taylor."

Isabella smiled. "Ever since I met my husband, luck's been on my side."

Meanwhile, in the yard, Michael sneezed and asked Mike over the phone, "Did Jerry leave everything to you before taking off, even the task of delivering drinks to me?"

Sitting behind Jerry's desk, sipping red wine, Mike nodded. "Yeah, Mr. Williams. Jerry mentioned we need to get the winning items notarized to convince everyone about the $100 million prize. But to keep the drinks with the special labels out of sight from the notary, we'll need some wiggle room." Mike propped his feet up on Jerry's desk.

Jerry was usually neat and wouldn't disrespect the desk like this. Mike's action was subtle payback for Jerry's late-night call.

Michael wasn't worried about the wiggle room Mike mentioned; he just asked, "How's it going?"

Mike nonchalantly nodded, "All good, it'll be in your hands soon. No sweat."

Before Mike could finish, someone burst into the office, startling him. "Mr. Runyon, I..." The person began, but Mike quickly hung up.

"What's the deal?" Mike asked irritably, recognizing the person responsible for hiding the winning drinks.

The staff member awkwardly admitted, "We've mixed up the winning drinks. They're in a container, but we've lost track of which one."

A sense of dread washed over Mike. Urgently, he asked, "Can't you scan the QR code on the drinks with your phone? Scan them to find the right one. If needed, get more people to scan."

Regrettably, the staff member replied, "Sorry, Mr. Runyon, the QR code is a one-time scan. Once used, it's sent to headquarters, and the prize is claimed."

Frustrated, Mike covered his face. He snapped, "Didn't you mark the drinks in any way?"

The staff member explained, "Mr. Nelson usually handled marking the winning drinks. I assumed you knew. When I realized you hadn't visited the warehouse, I came to you."

Taking a deep breath, Mike couldn't stay put. He paced with his hand on his head.

A sudden realization hit Mike. He turned to the staff member and asked, "How many drinks are in the container?"

Meanwhile, Michael stared at the disconnected call, narrowing his eyes.

"Have I been too soft on them lately? Hanging up on me is one thing, but now someone has the nerve to cut the call?" Michael's grip on the phone tightened.

His phone rang again; it was Mike. "What was that about? Why the sudden hang-up?" Michael questioned coldly.

Mike chuckled, "The notary office staff barged in, I was worried about getting caught and had to end it quick."

Michael felt suspicious, sensing Mike was hiding something.

"I've got a lot on my plate, Mr. Williams. I need to run. The drinks are on their way-just a bit delayed, but they'll be there soon," Mike said quickly before hanging up.

Perplexed, Michael didn't dwell on it. Even if there were more drinks than expected, what harm could it do?

However, a few days later, when Michael saw a hefty truck pull up in front of his house, his expression froze.