"Don’t be mad," Mason Wilson said with a chuckle, "The day of the engagent will be the beginning of their regrets."
"Don’t forget, Ophelia Wilson and Jas Reed’s engagent party is at the sa hotel as Sophie and them. So... there’ll be a good show to watch." Mason was also waiting for a good laugh.
He’s not in a hurry at all; having managed the Wilson Corporation for so many years, he has plenty of patience.
At first, Ophelia’s actions would disappoint and pain him, but now he feels nothing at all.
He regards the over twenty years of fatherly love he gave as rely a lesson learned, and Ophelia will have nothing to do with him in the future.
"Hmm." Mason’s words made Clarissa feel much better. She’s just waiting to see Chaya Davis and the others’ fate!
They look down on her Sophie and her son-in-law, hmph, Chaya Davis must be blind!
Clarissa was holding onto a wave of anger, just waiting for the day of the engagent to arrive.
The thought of the possible scenes on that day even made the usually tranquil and desire-free Clarissa start to look forward to it.
——
"Hello." Old Mr. Seymour answered the phone and slowly spoke.
"Dad, you absolutely have to arrive early that day," Ethan Seymour said excitedly on the phone, "It’s at the Imperial Hotel, eighth floor banquet hall."
"Hmm, I’ll be at the Imperial Hotel that day," Old Mr. Seymour responded.
With the affirmation from Old Mr. Seymour, Ethan Seymour felt reassured, hurriedly hung up the phone, and went back to his work.
Old Mr. Seymour put the phone on speaker, and Old Mrs. Seymour couldn’t help but give him a playful swat, teasing, "You’re such an old rascal, even learning to be naughty."
"Learning to be naughty? What are you talking about?" Old Mr. Seymour didn’t admit to his wife’s words, "Aren’t we going to the Imperial Hotel that day?"
Old Mrs. Seymour couldn’t help but laugh, "Yes, aren’t we just going to the Imperial Hotel."
However, they’re going to the ninth floor, not the eighth.
"What do you think, why would Charles hold an engagent party on the ninth floor?" Old Mrs. Seymour put her teasing aside, seriously asking.
"Ah... why do you care how he can hold it on the ninth floor? Our grandson isn’t up to any mischief anyway." Old Mr. Seymour waved it off, unconcerned, "Our grandson is so capable, why wouldn’t he manage anywhere?"
"That’s true." Old Mrs. Seymour smiled and didn’t say anything more.
Actually, the two of them had long suspected their grandson’s identity.
Ethan thought everything Charles had was from company dividends or what they gave him, but only the two of them know that Charles hasn’t taken a single extra penny from them.
Even if he accepted so gifts from them, Charles ended up giving them more in return.
They could tell that just relying on Seymour Corporation’s dividends couldn’t support such a comfortable life for Charles.
The two elderly might be getting on in years, but they’re not blind. Not to ntion the clothes Charles wears, the price of which can no longer be described as rely expensive.
The two old Seymours don’t mind, as long as their grandson is capable and living a good life on his own, that’s fine.
As the engagent date approached, Chaya Davis of the Wilson Clan was beside herself with excitent, clutching the phone and bragging to her girlfriends nonstop: "Yes, yes indeed, it’s the Imperial Hotel, the eighth floor, make sure you don’t go to the wrong floor."
The person on the other end of the line must have said sothing envious, which elicited a fit of proud laughter from Chaya Davis: "Yes, it’s that hotel. The ninth floor isn’t open to the public, the eighth floor was booked by my son-in-law. Can’t help it, my son-in-law just values my daughter that much."
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