Once Claudio Belles entered the private room with Angelo Herran, the table was full of people, staring at them.
When he was in high school, Claudio Belles belonged to an average family, and because he spent his youth running around in the sun, his skin was not as milky white as it is now. Now, especially in the three years of his marriage to Montrelle Herran, who has taken good care of her, she is not only improving after the birth of her children, but also getting better and better.
This is probably what love is all about.
Many of his classmates in elementary school made fun of him.
“Claudio is getting more and more handsome!”
“Claudio, is this your son? He doesn’t look so young.
Claudio Belles introduces him with a slight smile: “This is my son Angelo Herran, who is three years old”.
“Three years? Did you get married early?”
Claudio Belles doesn’t hide: “Yes, as soon as I graduated from college, I got married.”
Shortly after taking his seat, Fresco Varas entered with Ritchie Ordóñez on his arm, dressed to the nines, attracting a crowd.
One person scoffed, “Fresco carries too much luxury!”.
“Fresco Varas looks more and more like a noblewoman!”.
Fresco Varas, looking proud and chin high, looked at Ritchie Ordonez next to him and boasted, “That’s all thanks to my husband, Mr. Ritchie, who made me marry a good husband.”
Claudio Belles had a shudder, the class reunion was just as Estrella had said, a competition party.
Once seated, Claudio Belles didn’t say much as he ate, busying himself with Angelo Herran’s food.
Angelo Herran blurted out, “Mom, I want to eat meat.”
“Then eat some vegetables too, otherwise you won’t get the right balance.”
It was a simple conversation, but to the ears of those who wanted to hear it, it took on a different tone.
Fresco Varas joked: “Claudio, the children need to eat something nutritious, don’t you eat a lot of meat at home? It’s not good for the kids to be too thin. Our Ritchie Ordóñez is going to be serving us later, we’re not going to be able to eat all these dishes, so you can pack them up.”
With this comment, the diners were more or less informed that the man Claudio Belles was married to was of average means, otherwise Fresco Varas would not have dared to speak like that.
Claudio Belles smiled, “No, if you are treating yourselves, you can pack your own bags and go back.”
“Don’t be polite, we’re old school friends, we know each other, you’re having a hard time and we’re not helping you, it’s just some food, it’s not worth much, you can repackage it and eat it for days, you’ll save a lot of money on meals.”
Claudio Belles pursed his lips and smiled more meaningfully, “It’s a shame to throw them away, but my husband has a cleanliness problem, he can’t eat food with other people’s saliva on it.”
Fresco Varas gagged, blushed a little and muttered, “How bad is he, and he’s a neat freak. Hmph.”
Claudio Belles ignored her, and Angelo Herrán, sitting to the side, tugged on Claudio Belles’ sleeve, winked and said, “Mom, I’m full, I want to play some games on your phone.”
“Oh.”
Claudio Belles passed the phone to his son and Angelo Herran jumped down from the table, picked it up and ran to curl up on the couch in the private living room.
As soon as Angelo Herrán had his phone, he found his father’s WhatsApp and sent him a message.
…
Montrelle Herran, who had just arrived home, received a WhatsApp message from Claudio.
By clicking on it.
“Dad, mom’s classmates keep spitting on you for being a wimp, you’re poor and you ask mom to pack your leftovers home, mom is super humiliated.”
Montrelle Herran: …
Is he a loser? Is he poor?
Montrelle Herran has lived more than thirty years and no one has ever said that about him.
After all, who, in general, would be in a position to call you a loser or poor?
But lately, it seems, there are always those who don’t know any better, who continue to challenge their limits.
Montrelle Herran made a decision.
A call was then made to his assistant Jeronimo Orihuela.
…
It is no longer a simple reunion dinner. Those who are well off seek presence, those who are well married brag about how good their husbands are, while those who are not so well off can only sulk, drink and eat, from time to time, intervene from the sidelines.
Once the meal was over, Claudio Belles took Angelo Herran out of the hotel.
The group had just arrived at the hotel entrance and were about to greet and be on their way when an extremely flashy Rolls-Royce Phantom suddenly drove past the hotel.
Squeak…
The black Rolls-Royce Phantom came to a firm stop in front of the group.
Claudio Belles’ eyes were also fixed on him, but only for the show.
The man driving the car, who got out first, walked briskly to the back seat door and reached out to open it.
Claudio Belles sighed inwardly: “The rich are so sophisticated that they need someone else to open the door for them”.
The man in the back seat, with his long legs, got out of the car, and as soon as he did, Claudio Belles was stunned.
The man in front of me, Montrelle Herran, was dressed in a straight suit, white shirt, black pants, handsome in the extreme, especially with his figure, a walking coat rack, I don’t know if it was the suit itself that was expensive, or if it was the fact that he looked exquisite in it, and exquisite means expensive.
When did a three-year-old husband, who is clearly an ordinary shipyard, become so expensive and unattainable?
Montrelle Herran’s face is outstanding, her body is coveted, and even the term “jade tree” is too vulgar to be used.
Everyone present at the hotel entrance was attracted to this man.
Claudio Belles was even more stunned.
Angelo Herran, who was also seeing Montrelle Herran like this for the first time, couldn’t help but coo, “Daddy is so handsome!”.
As the man jumped the crowd and approached Claudius Belles, the coldness surrounding his body, as well as a moment to collect himself, the man hooked his thin lips, a soft smile in his eyes, “Honey, I’ve come to take you and your son home.”
“…”
Is this really Montrelle Herran?
Claudio Belles feels momentarily uncomfortable and a little dazed.
Jerónimo Orihuela, the special assistant, approaches her and respectfully says, “Ma’am, the boss has come to take you and Little Master home.”
“…”
Madam, boss, Little Master?
With what …
Ritchie Ordóñez and Fresco Varas, standing to the side, also froze, but soon Fresco Varas scoffed with a deliberate smile, “Claudio, when your husband left you, didn’t he drive a VW Ranger? And now he drives a Rolls-Royce? Now that’s a quick change.”
Claudio Belles wondered how and why.
Jerónimo Orihuela smiled a formulaic smile: “Our Boss has always kept a low profile, because his wife said he was coming to see his high school classmates, and when he was at home, he always made a point of not being too flashy, as he would be hated, so the Boss just drove a Volkswagen belonging to one of the company’s employees and sent his wife and Little Master.”
Montrelle Herran scoffed, “I didn’t realize, however, that society, today, had become so snobbish that one has to be bullied for the mere fact of being less well-to-do.”
Montrelle Herran deliberately scoffed, but kept her eyes on Claudio Belles’ small face, becoming more affectionate: “Mrs. Montrelle, it’s my fault you’re being bullied.”
Fresco Varas was slightly annoyed: “I think you rented this car!”
Jerónimo Orihuela warned with an expressionless face: “This lady, food can be eaten, but words cannot be said”.
Soon, the manager of the Hilton Hotel, opposite the doorman who had earlier glared at Montrelle Herran, came rushing in, apologizing with a look of sincere horror.
“President Montrelle, I am very sorry, this doorman is new to the hotel and is really out of place.”
Montrelle Herran’s face was indifferent as he blurted out, “If he doesn’t have eyes, why does he keep them?”
The manager’s palms were sweating as he bowed his head and said, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, no, we can’t keep him, we’ll fire him immediately!”
Claudio Belles: …
President Montrelle?
Did Montrelle Herran bribe them?