"After dinner, accompany me to a dinner party," said Spencer Childe nonchalantly.
"Grandpa, are you also keen on attending these?"
"It's your Uncle Harry's wine party," Spencer Childe said, "I don't need to tell you that your Uncle Harry holds a significant position. Although he has retired from politics and turned to business, he's a formidable character with an extensive background."
Sylvan Cheney smiled but didn't say much.
Only after Chale Cheney was driven away by the driver did he breathe a sigh of relief.
As the car stopped at the villa, the rain was still falling.
There was lingering mist everywhere. The temperature was low, the night was thick, and it was impossible to see the end at a glance.
As the car came to a stop, Chale Cheney didn't bother with an umbrella, and with his short legs, strode towards the living room.
"Jasy, Jasy!" He ran, crying out plaintively.
"Young master!" The servants chased him, worried that he might fall, "Miss Yale is in the bedroom."
