10

Spencer stood at the door, his white shirt dirty and disheveled, his usually neatly combed hair hanging down, covering half of his reddened eyes. He clenched something in his hand, his knuckles white from the force, his gaze as cold as ice, fixed on Jerome. Sandra saw him looking so disheveled and haggard and assumed it was because of her wedding. She admitted she wasn’t completely indifferent to Spencer, but unfortunately, he was just the illegitimate son of the Russell Family. Compared to the son of the Powell Family, his background was simply inferior. Sandra stepped forward, her tone reproachful: “Spencer, what are you doing? If you're here to offer congratulations, we welcome you, but if you're here to disrupt the wedding, I...” Before she could finish, a group of people suddenly entered carrying a black coffin, all dressed in mourning attire. The hall erupted into chaos. Old Mr. Powell and Old Mrs. Powell were furious, standing up and shouting, “Do you know what kind of occas