Arabella Vanderbilt's face flushed red in an instant.
"You... you hypocrite!"
Joel Russo chuckled lowly, "In front of you, I'd rather be a bandit."
"..."
After the play, it was time for the younger guests.
At this moment, someone proposed, "Since so many young people are here today to celebrate Old Master Perkins's birthday and it's still early, why not let the younger generation liven things up? The play just now seemed not to the taste of some young folks, so how about we do something that caters to the younger crowd this time?"
Arabella lifted her head and saw that the speaker was a lean, unfamiliar middle-aged man.
She wasn't concerned, but at this time, a comparatively young man stood up and played along; Arabella hadn't paid much attention at first, but then the man's gaze swept over her with a hint of disdain, which secretly ignited her anger. Was it just her, or were there always people who disliked her wherever she went?
When had she ever provoked such a person?
