I could almost see Lando's eyes turning red, probably because he was so angry right now.
Well, who wouldn't be angry? He had to face the same people who bullied him since he was a kid, and now his own family was treating him like garbage again.
Just like I always thought, at family events, all we—illegitimate children—could do was stand together in some lonely corner, holding onto each other.
"Leftover?" Lando repeated, his voice sounding cold. "What kind of event planner doesn't prepare enough seats for their guests?"
Instead of being embarrassed or at least feeling guilty, the waiter actually acted even more rude. "We're terribly sorry, Young Master," he said, but his tone sounded mocking instead of sorry. "Mr. Brixton only decided to invite you at the last minute. Besides, you don't really need a chair anymore, do you?"
This bastard…
