CHAPTER 217: TOO OLD.

It was Aubrey.

She wore a green, flowery gown that hugged every inch of her curves, ending just above her knees.

A daring slit traced the back, while a plunging V-neckline teased just enough of her cleavage to make heads turn.

Her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, revealing the elegant lines of her neck and bare shoulders that glowed under the soft lights.

’What the hell is she doing here?’ Charles thought, his brows pulling together in confusion as his gaze locked onto Aubrey’s.

From a distance, Charles couldn’t tear his eyes away from Aubrey. She exuded a magnetic, sophisticated aura that pulled attention like gravity.

Beside her stood a striking man, likely in his late fifties, his fingers laced intimately with hers.

He was dressed head-to-toe in a pristine white tailored suit jacket, crisp shirt, and matching trousers which radiated wealth, power, and possession.

His hair was neatly greyed with age, adding to his distinguished charm, and a pair of medicated glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, sharpening his gaze.

Clipped discreetly to his collar was a wireless microphone, almost like a second skin which was a clear evidence that he was about to address the gathering.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" the crowd suddenly erupted in unison, their voices echoing with excitement as thunderous applause followed, shaking the room with celebration.

"Reuben," Charles called, tilting his head slightly toward him. "Is that young lady the one celebrating her birthday?" he asked, though his eyes refused to stray from Aubrey.

Reuben scoffed softly, adjusting his apron. "Nah, she’s the daughter of the celebrant," he replied nonchalantly.

Then, with a pointed glance at Charles, he added, "And take your eyes off her. She’s not from our class, Charles. Girls like her don’t end up with guys like us."

Reuben turned his attention to the tables adorned with an array of elegantly arranged dishes, all waiting to be served by the waiters and waitresses.

"Let’s start with the champagne," he said, his tone all business. "We’ll serve it to the guests first. After that, we’ll split up into sections. These rich folks have too much pride to walk over and serve themselves, so we’ll go to them—ask what they want, and make sure it gets to their table, no mistakes."

"Alright. Let’s do that," one of the waitresses chimed in, and the others nodded in agreement but Charles barely heard them.

His mind was elsewhere, clouded with disbelief.

Charles couldn’t wrap his head around how Aubrey, of all people, had just walked into the same building as him.

Of all the men in the world, why did it have to be her father throwing the party?

Charles jaw clenched subtly. A knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach at the thought of being spotted.

He knew Aubrey too well—knew that if her eyes landed on him dressed in a waiter’s uniform, she would undoubtedly make a scene. The type that would humiliate him, tear through the thin veil of pride he still held. The type that would make him want to disappear.

Meanwhile, Aubrey’s dad who’s known as Mr. Edison began to make his way down the room and the crowd parted an open space for them to walk through.

Aubrey trailed beside her dad as she smile warmly, giving small gentle nod towards those present.

When Mr. Edison reached the front, he paused with a calm authority, lifting his left hand into the air to silence the applause.

The room responded instantly. The warm claps died down.

"Welcome, everyone," Mr. Edison began, his voice smooth and commanding as it echoed through the speakers.

A few scattered whispers slipped from the mouths of the guests—curious murmurs, admiration, gossip—but they quickly faded as he continued to speak.

"As you all know, today marks the beginning of another year in my life—which unfortunately means I’m getting older than I was yesterday."

The audience chuckled softly, a ripple of laughter moving through the elegantly dressed crowd as a few heads nodded in amusement.

Mr. Edison smiled warmly and continued, "First of all, I truly want to thank every one of you for being present tonight." He stated with a smile, his voice carried genuine appreciation. "And secondly..."

Mr. Edison paused with a playful smirk, "I didn’t expect to see this much of a crowd. Either I’m more loved than I thought, or you all just came for the champagne."

Laughter followed again, louder this time, the mood lightening even further.

When the laughter finally dies down, he continued his statement. "I don’t plan on staying out too late tonight," Mr. Edison said, his tone laced with dry humor. "So I’d rather address you all now—before my aging body decides to betray me."

A few amused chuckles floated through the crowd.

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room, taking in the familiar faces with a soft smile.

"Tonight, I want each and every one of you to drink, dance, and celebrate with me for the gift of seeing another year."

He gave a slight nod, his voice firm yet warm. "Let’s make tonight unforgettable."

Following that, the music which had died down in the background sudden began to play, its melodious song was followed by the clap from audience who found mr. Edison speech as astonishing.

"Let’s start serving," Reuben said with a sense of urgency, and immediately, the rest of the waitstaff sprang into motion.

Each of them picked up trays topped with elegant flutes and chilled bottles of champagne, their movements smooth and synchronized.

Charles swallowed hard, adjusting the apron around his waist as he stepped out alongside the others.

He moved through the crowd with practiced grace, pouring golden streams of champagne into delicate glasses and offering them with a polite smile to whoever crossed his path.

The clink of glass, the hum of conversation, and the faint scent of perfume filled the air, but Charles could only think of one thing—avoiding Aubrey’s gaze at all costs.

"Thanks," a young man who Charles had poured a glass of champagne for stated with a warm voice.

"Welcome," Charles purred and just as he was about walking away from the young man, Charles felt the cold hands of someone on his shoulder... from behind.