Charles waved his hand dismissively. "No need. I'll go upstairs later. Just have someone prepare some tea. Do we still have this year's new tea?"
"Yes, we do," the butler, James, replied with a delighted expression. "I'll prepare it right away and bring it up to you shortly, Mr. Charles!"
Charles nodded and turned to find a seat far from Clarisse. "Why did you come back this time, Mother?"
Clarisse's expression changed slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. "What do you mean by that? This is still my home. Do I need to report to you when I come back?"
Charles' thin lips curved into a slight smile, his eyes carrying a hint of coldness. His relaxed posture contrasted starkly with Clarisse's proper and reserved demeanor.
Her expression darkened, and she felt powerless about her son's attitude toward her. She could not pinpoint when this change had occurred, but by the time she noticed, it was already too late to reverse it.
"Charlie, I'm still your mother!" Clarisse exclaimed.
Charles interrupted, "I never said you weren't. How long do you plan to stay this time, Mother?"
Her expression changed again. Even Janet, who was sitting beside her, could sense her anger. How could Charles not feel it?
He rested his long fingers on the armrest of the couch as his sharp eyes grew cold. "After all, your real home is in Capiton."
"You... Charlie, how can you speak to me like this? You should know why I left back then. It wasn't my fault!"
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