How To Make A Walter White Meme?

Delancy lives with her father and works in his store. When the store falls into debt she agrees to marry the son of her father's wealthy​ friend. Marrying a man she could barely understand was difficult but the challenges she encounters as she tries to unravel him leads her to question what is love. Can she love someone that no one could?

I was in the office bathroom stall when I heard them trash-talking me. The intern I'd trained for three months whined, "She's a heartless witch—like a robot with zero brain cells." I was about to swing the door open when another voice jumped in, laughing. "Documents incomplete." "Receipts don't match." "No signature? Denied." "Seriously, we've all memorized the freaking rulebot's script!" Once they were gone, I headed back to my desk. The intern stormed in and slammed a fat stack of reimbursement forms in front of me. "Don't go on another power trip and block everyone's claims." I skimmed the obviously fake receipts. Normally, I'd tear into her. But this time, I just smiled. "My head's killing me. Can't read the fine print."

At a highway service area, the man parked in the next space points under his van and shouts that it's leaking fuel and is about to explode. I am a veteran auto mechanic with ten years of experience. Without hesitation, I slide under the vehicle and, within ten seconds, clamp off the fuel line. The moment I crawl back out, I catch the smell of mineral water. The owner, Billy Dickson, immediately pulls out his phone and starts a livestream while several of his accomplices pin me against the hood. "Watch this, everyone! We set the perfect trap and caught a gang of catalytic converter thieves! See how smoothly he got under the chassis? He's obviously a repeat offender. Every missing part at this service area has to be his doing!" Covered in dirt and grease, I try to explain to the crowd that I only cut the line because I thought the vehicle was about to catch fire and endanger everyone nearby. Billy spits a thick wad of phlegm right onto my shoe. "Who asked you to stick your nose into my business? You crawled under my van because you wanted to steal parts! Either you pay for a brand-new vehicle today, or I'll hand you over to the police and make sure you rot in prison!" Not wanting to delay getting my wife, who's about to go into labor, to the hospital, I grit my teeth and transfer them 20,000 dollars to settle the matter privately. Three days later, on a long downhill stretch of a winding mountain road, Billy's van completely loses its brakes. Black smoke pours from the tires. He recognizes my car and frantically blares the horn. Rolling down his window, he begs me to tell him how to survive. I simply press down on the accelerator and widen the distance between us, my face completely expressionless. "Back for another livestream to chase views? Give me a break. To prove I'm not a car thief, I already threw my wrenches into the river. You'll have to figure out for yourself how to jump out of the van."

My name is Kayla Robinson, and I'm an OB-GYN. I have just finished three emergency surgeries. Not long after I step out of the hospital, my phone rings. My best friend Isabella White's name pops up on the screen. When I answer, her shrill voice comes through the phone. "Kayla, my water just broke, and my stomach hurts like hell! Come to the hospital right now! I want you to deliver my baby yourself!" I instinctively turn around to head back inside when lines of text suddenly flash before my eyes. [Don't go into the operating room.] [Isabella already lost the baby. She doesn't want you to deliver the baby. She just wants a scapegoat.] [Her mafia husband will fly into a rage and snap your neck with his bare hands.] [You won't be the only one to die. Your entire family will suffer his wrath!] I freeze in my tracks. A few moments later, I decide to trust those warnings. After all, my parents' lives are on the line. I can't afford to take the chance.

When Dexter Welch, a security guard who works in the residential area, sees me driving my pink Toyota Corolla everywhere, he's very certain that I'm a sugar baby who's being backed by her own sugar daddy. On the first day, I see one word getting carved into the car hood. It says "bitch". I merely give the hood a wipedown without uttering a word. Later on, I swap out the current SD card of my dashcam to an SD card that has a 512 GB memory. On the second day, my car windows get smashed in. When I go over to the property management office to check the security footage, the front desk agent tells me that the security camera overseeing my car "happens" to be broken. Dexter leans against the desk with a grin on his face. "If that car of yours is ruined, then so be it. Tell your sugar daddy to buy you another one." I crouch down and take a picture of the damage. Then, I save it into a folder called "evidence" in my phone. On the third day, two of my tires have gone flat. When I bend down to pick up a spare tire, Dexter hugs me from behind all of a sudden. He murmurs into my ear, "What's so good about sleeping with an old codger? Why don't you date me instead? I'm young and strong—" That's when I grab a wrench and smash it right into his arm. As Dexter nurses his injured arm, he glares at me. "How dare you lay a finger on me! Go ahead and lodge a report, then! My uncle's the property manager here! What can you do about me, hmm?" I silently note down Dexter's work ID without saying anything. On the fourth day, I drive another pink car back to the apartment. As soon as Dexter notices the flash of pink in its usual parking slot, he smiles as he exits the guardhouse. Then, he pulls out a key from his pocket and scratches my car with all his strength. An older gentleman who happens to be walking his dog nearby freezes in his tracks. He sounds so startled that his voice actually cracks. "Have you gone nuts? Do you know the model of the car you've just scratched? That's a top-tier Rolls-Royce!"

Last night, I got my layoff notice. The official excuse? Too old, under-educated, and holding the team back. This morning, HR pulled me aside with a sympathetic sigh. "Look, Gina, you really pissed off the wrong person this time." I followed her gaze across the floor of Brown Media. Two weeks ago. Catherine Chase, the CEO’s niece, dropped into the sales department with a squad of her college buddies, branding themselves the "Elite Youth Squad." Yesterday, I rejected her project proposal. Catching my eye, Catherine smirked. "Some aging, uneducated women should just stick to being housewives. Save yourself the embarrassment." I didn't argue. I just signed the severance paper in silence. What she didn't realize was that I never needed Brown Media. They begged me to stay. Before walking out, I posted a simple status update… “Officially resigned. Let the fun begin.” Within seconds, my phone blew up.