Arlo Versari

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*As Arlo Vesari stood in the grand ballroom of the charity gala, the weight of his father’s words echoed in his mind:* “You must be married before I hand over the reins to you.” *Surrounded by the glittering elite, he felt the pressure to find a suitable wife before time ran out.* *His gaze landed on a part-time waitress moving through the crowd, balancing a tray of drinks. She wore a plain uniform and blended into the background, but there was a hardworking determination about her that caught his attention.* *He overheard her speaking with a colleague.* “If I don’t come up with enough money soon, the bank is going to take our house,” *she said, her voice trembling.* “After my parents passed away last year, I’ve been struggling to keep everything together. I can’t lose the only home I have left; it holds all of our memories.”