How Much Did PlayStation 3 Cost At Commercialisation?

One night of boldness leads to a marriage of convenience. Just a plain agreement. No commitment but a lot of sex. She is liking the setup until the 'right one' came back. Without a fuss, she left, bringing the memories and another heartbeat. ********** Dumped by her two-year relationship for the reason of her being prude and frigid, Alexzia Montes proves she was otherwise. With four glasses of wine in her system, she delved into a passionate night with a stranger she randomly picked. "Do I need to pay you? How much?" she outrightly asked. "Can you afford me?" he snickers. "Just tell me how much" she stubbornly retorted. She is getting pissed by his arrogance. "500 billion dollars" he briefly replies with raised challenging brows. "What?" she mumbles in disbelief. "My present net worth is more or less 500 billion dollars" he unconcernedly replied. Stunned, she becomes quiet. "That's why you look familiar..." she frustratedly whispers, facepalming herself. The man she often sees on tv and in newspapers but hasn't met in person. The only person in the country who has a five hundred billion net worth. "CEO Lucien Wright..." she whispers in despair, almost indistinct. Of all people, she had chosen the cold and ruthless CEO of Wright Group of Companies. How could she afford him? He could even buy her, body and soul. "I need a wife, a bait for my girlfriend to come back. Name your price" he casually announced, handing her the documents. "Once she is back, you will sign the divorce paper and peacefully leave. I will pay you, just name the amount" he added. The offer is tempting Alexzia. She needs ten million dollars and it's an impossible plight but she has an easy way out, being a Ten Million Dollar Wife to CEO Wright.

​"Three billion? You've got to be kidding me, Evelyn, I knew you liked the lifestyle but I didn't think you were this greedy, or maybe you really were just a gold digger this entire time like Rebecca always said," he spat, his voice dripping with sudden contempt.   ​"You said I could name my price, Arthur, and that is the price for three years of my life that I can never get back, so either you pay it or we can spend the next year fighting this in court and making sure your precious Samantha has to wait even longer to marry you," I said, picking up the pen that was tucked into the envelope.***** Evelyn spent three years playing the part of the perfect, invisible wife to Arthur Hayes, a man who only married her out of a sense of obligation to his father. She endured the cold nights, the silence, and the constant belittling from his family, hoping that one day he would truly see her. But when his first love returns, Arthur doesn't hesitate to throw divorce papers in her face. ​After a final, violent confrontation where Arthur chooses a lie over the truth, Evelyn disappears with a secret he was never supposed to know. Five years later, she is back—not as the girl who needed a savior, but as a powerhouse who owns the very debt threatening to sink the Hayes empire. Arthur wants his heir and a second chance, but Evelyn is no longer for sale. This time, if he wants her, he’ll have to survive the wreckage of the lies he once believed.

During Black Friday, the intelligent system I develop helps the company run highly targeted ads and brings in 30 million dollars in revenue. But when I apply for the project bonus, the director rejects it. "The system is just an auxiliary tool. The performance belongs to the sales department." I hold back my frustration and pull up the system logs. "88% of the orders come from the system's targeted pushes. According to company policy, I should receive a 0.5% commission." The director glances at me, twirling his pen. "If the sales commission doesn't go to the sales department, should it go to you? And your lousy system exceeds the API limit and racks up extra fees. You still owe us a hundred thousand dollars. We'll deduct that from your salary." Three days before Christmas sales are set to begin, the system completely shuts down because of API restrictions. Late at night, the director calls me. I stare at my computer screen. "Since the system is just an auxiliary tool, why don't you start with manual targeting?"

At the factory, my arm is pulled into a machine. After the surgery, the factory supervisor tells me it's my fault. Because of my arm, the machine has to be shut down for repairs, and every day of downtime will cost them millions. "Someone has to take responsibility for this, Zachary," the supervisor tells me. "It wouldn't make sense to demand millions from you, so just compensate us with 300,000—that's all." Under their threats—and my family's desperate begging—I sign the IOU for 300,000. With one arm gone, I can no longer find a job. All I can do is collect trash to repay the debt. While picking up bottles outside a restaurant one day, I hear the factory supervisor laughing and bragging inside. "Actually, that one-armed guy didn't violate any rules. In fact, the HQ gave three million dollars in compensation. My house and car? All bought with that money," he said. "I mean, who'd ever find out? With that debt hanging over him, he's probably already run off somewhere." Shaken by the news, I stagger onto the street. A truck roars out of nowhere, slamming into me and throwing me 16 feet across the road. When I open my eyes again, I had returned to the day I lost my arm.

While inspecting the hotel owned by my family, I start to feel hungry after ordering some food at the hotel restaurant. Before the food is served, I munch on a small piece of bread roll for the time being. Suddenly, the lobby manager comes up to me and hands me a piece of paper. "Hello, sir. We do not allow outside food here. It has been 8 minutes and 30 seconds since you entered our restaurant. The total cost of your meal is 1,500 dollars. You'll be fined 1.28 million dollars." I am briefly stunned as I look at the piece of paper detailing the amount I should pay. Then, I take a picture of the piece of paper and send it to the group chat that has all the members of the board of directors. I tag my elder sister in the next message I send. "I've received a fine at the hotel owned by my family. Is this how you've increased the hotel's revenue?"

I go to the boutique my son has invested in to pick up the gown I've ordered for a banquet. Just as I'm about to leave, the manager, Wendy Reed, stops me and says that I still owe them money. She pulls out the bill. I look down at it and see that the boutique is charging me 300 thousand dollars for their creativity, 500 thousand dollars for fabric therapy, and one million dollars for their chief designer's mental wellness. On top of other expenses, the price totals up to two million dollars. I laugh incredulously and send a message to my secretary. "Withdraw our funding from my son's company and this boutique!"