CHAPTER 218: RICH FOLKS BIRTHDAY.

Ever so slowly, Charles turned to meet the intense gaze of the birthday celebrant.

"Hey, can you get me a glass of apple juice?" the voice came smooth, almost commanding.

With a subtle nod, Charles turned on his heel and made his way toward the bar, where an array of colorful juices shimmered beneath the soft glow of the overhead lights.

Charles pulled out a chilled can of apple juice, placing it carefully on his tray.

With measured steps, he walked back toward Mr. Edison and as soon as he reached the birthday celebrant, Charles cracked open the can with a soft hiss and poured the golden liquid into the waiting glass on his tray.

"Here you go, sir," Charles whispered, extending the glass to Mr. Edison with a composed smile.

"Thanks," he purred before walking away.

All the while Charles had been moving through the crowd, offering drinks with a practiced smile, his mind was nowhere near the party.

Beneath his calm exterior, he was panicking and his thoughts tangled around one unsettling fact: he was working at an event hosted by Aubrey’s father.

The idea alone made his skin crawl.

’What if Aubrey sees me?’ he wondered, jaw tight.

Knowing Aubrey, she would make fun of Charles by creating a scene. Besides, she always does that.

Unable to shake the anxiety curling in his chest, Charles gently tugged Reuben by the arm and pulled him aside to a quiet corner.

"Reuben... I..."

Charles hesitated, his voice low, his eyes scanning the crowd like he was bracing for an ambush. "I think I have to get going."

"Huh? Why do you want to leave? The party is almost over." Reuben mumbled. "Or did something happen?" He inquired with a curious gaze and a concerned tone.

"No," Charles sincerely responded. "I just... I don’t feel comfortable here," Charles murmured, his gaze darting toward the crowd. "There’s someone here I really don’t want seeing me."

Reuben raised a brow, then smirked. "Ohh, a girl, right?"

Charles exhaled loudly, the weight on his shoulders visibly pulling him down.

He gave a small nod. "Yeah, but it’s not what you’re thinking," he mumbled. "She just... makes me uncomfortable. Being around her is like walking barefoot on broken glass."

Reuben swallowed hard and gave a slow nod. "Well... how about you just try to avoid her? I mean, we’ll be done soon enough. Just keep your head down and stay out of her way."

"Nah," Charles shook his head. "I think the best thing for me to do right now is leave before she—"

His words trailed off as one of the guests raised a hand, signaling for Reuben’s attention.

"Excuse me," Reuben purred, making his way over to the guest.

’I guess I’ll have to wait for him to come back first,’ Charles mused, shifting his weight from one foot to the other but unfortunately, when Reuben finally returned, every attempt Charles made to revisit the topic of leaving the premises was cut short either by a demanding guest or another unexpected distraction pulling Reuben away mid-conversation.

Eventually, with a resigned sigh, Charles decided that since only a few hours remained, he might as well stay till the very end.

As expected, the birthday celebration rolled on, with Charles and his fellow workers expertly weaving through the crowd, serving drinks with practiced ease.

Half an hour later, the scene shifted as the other staff began arranging round tables at opposite ends of the room, transforming the space into an elegant dining area.

The lively chatter softened as guests settled into their seats at tables of four, the atmosphere shifting from festive buzz to poised anticipation.

The waiters and waitresses moved gracefully through the room, serving each guest their meals as each plate were perfectly paired with a glass of wine resting elegantly at the center of every table.

"This is boring," Reuben muttered suddenly, shaking his head as he leaned back against the cold kitchen wall.

He had just walked over to the kitchen to rest, and Charles was beside him.

Charles nod his head in agreement. "You’re totally right." He purred, letting out a deep breath. "How many hours are left before the party ends?" Charles questioned Reuben with a tilted brows.

Reuben lifted his wrist as he stare at his watch for some few seconds, before proceeding in giving Charles a reply. "Just an hour." He warmly stated. "Soon, we’ll be escaping this stiff, rich-folks’ birthday that feels more like a funeral," Reuben teased, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. Charles couldn’t help but chuckle warmly, the sound breaking the heavy air.

The party continued... slow songs playing in the background as the guests were glued to their seats like statues, refusing to dance or let loose.

Everyone seemed less interested in celebration and more in flaunting their designer threads, as if the night was a runway rather than a birthday bash.

After twenty minutes passed, a young man stepped into the center of the room, clutching a microphone close to his lips. "Everyone," He called out, drawing the attention of all those present as they averted their gaze towards him.

With a warm smile, he began to speak up. "So the celebrant is getting tired, and without further ado, let’s begin the dropping of gifts."

At his cue, guests began rising from their seats, slowly making their way toward Mr. Edison.

One by one, they placed their gift boxes carefully on the floor nearby, forming a neat pile just within the celebrant’s reach.

The room became filled with a mixture of excitement and polite reverence.

"I thought rich folks don’t do gift? Like they don’t give birthday gifts to others?" Charles asked, prompting Reuben to scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I’m more surprised the celebrant hasn’t cut the cake yet," he mumbled with a smirk.

"Strange... this is my first time attending a birthday done by rich people of the societ—"

Before Charles could finish his statement, a sharp female voice pierced through the room.

"Oh my gosh! Charles!"