These words left no space for Hayley Cole’s dignity, rcilessly tearing her face and trampling it on the ground.
Instantly, Hayley Cole’s face turned red with sha and anger, roaring: "Charles Seymour, do you even know who I am?"
Charles Seymour’s eyes grew even colder, dropping the temperature in the banquet hall below freezing: "Do I care who you are? Talk about Sophie, then get the hell out!"
No one could talk about his Sophie!
"Charles Seymour, I was invited by your Seymour Family!" Hayley Cole had never been insulted like this, especially in front of so many people, her eyes turning red.
If Hayley Cole hadn’t been holding back, not wanting to lose more face, she might have already burst into tears.
In a fit of rage and sha, she had long forgotten about dignity, shouting angrily at Charles Seymour, not caring about manners at all, her veins showing and her features twisted with viciousness.
"Ha." On the contrary, Charles Seymour was completely unaffected by Hayley Cole’s screams, letting out a contemptuous sound, like an invisible slap, whipping across Hayley Cole’s face, causing it to sting.
"The Seymour Family invited you? Which Seymour Family? Which person from the Seymour Family?" Charles Seymour showed no extra movents or expressions, yet still had a condescending aura, as if looking at dust.
Obviously, that dust was Hayley Cole at the mont.
"Jas invited , you..." Hayley Cole endured the discomfort from the disparity, trying hard to speak toughly.
Charles Seymour spoke lightly, his voice cold and making one shiver: "Jas Reed? When did the Seymour Family acknowledge him as family?"
With those words, it wasn’t just Hayley Cole who felt slapped, but Jas Reed’s face turned white, lowering his eyes uncomfortably, seemingly embarrassed.
In truth, Jas Reed wished he could go over and kick Charles Seymour over, beat him up fiercely, then step on Charles Seymour’s face and spit on him.
Damned Charles Seymour, what’s with saying the Seymour Family never acknowledged him?
"You little brat!" Ethan Seymour couldn’t tolerate his most beloved son being humiliated by Charles Seymour like this.
With a shout, he rushed over, raised his arm, and swung at Charles Seymour’s face.
Only, the expected sound didn’t co; instead, Ethan Seymour’s wailing did: "Hurts, hurts, let go, let go of !"
Charles Seymour’s fingers loosened, and Ethan Seymour, trying hard to pull away, almost fell to the ground as a result.
Fortunately, the table beside him caught him.
Even though Ethan Seymour didn’t fall to the ground, having his wrist gripped by Charles Seymour earlier still left him grimacing in pain.
"I’m telling you, Jas is my son; you little brat..." Even in pain, Ethan Seymour didn’t forget to scold Charles Seymour while defending his dear son, Jas Reed, "totally isn’t..."
"I don’t want to be either." Charles Seymour spoke lightly, showing no trace of anger, "Didn’t you already announce in the papers to sever ties with ? I’ve long stopped being part of it, don’t co here claiming kinship with ."
"You’re not my son, what are you doing here? Get out!" Ethan Seymour pointed furiously at the door, shouting, "This is my father’s birthday banquet; you’re not welco!"
"Hmph." Old Mr. Seymour coldly snorted on the side, sternly questioning, "I really didn’t know, I can’t have my grandson attending my own birthday?"
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