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Asher couldn't get enough of the new bubble machine. Even after playing outside, he continued at home, spraying bubbles all over the floor. Isabella was at her wit's end. Despite coaxing and deceiving, she couldn't get the bubble machine away.

"You should talk less. If you're so capable, why don't you take the bubble machine away?" Isabella vented her frustration at Andrew.

Thoughts ran through her mind: "If you're capable, go ahead. Your son not making a fuss would be strange."

However, all she saw was Andrew walking up to Asher, his handsome face slightly stern, extending his palm, and simply saying, "Hand it over."

Asher obediently surrendered the bubble machine, although he pouted, indicating his displeasure, yet he didn't cry or make a scene.

Isabella watched with wide eyes. It seemed her son only bullied her; he surely was selective with his targets.

In frustration, she jumped off the couch, rolled up her sleeves, thinking, "Today, I must teach this brat a lesson."

Yet wh