### Chapter 35 Avery decided to play along, a flicker of mischief dancing in her eyes as she faced the crowd. “It’s true,” she declared confidently, her voice cutting through the murmurs. “He’s strikingly wealthy, yet old, unattractive, and barely holding on.” A wave of curiosity rippled through the crowd, each person scratching their heads in puzzlement, trying to identify the old, ugly tycoon she spoke of. Just then, a waiter approached, bowing politely. “Please proceed to the second floor, Miss Tate.” Avery’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up toward the balcony, where the second floor's railing was visible from the living room below—a bold display of grandeur. Standing there, cast in shadows, was Elliot’s bodyguard, his gaze fixed intently upon her. As the waiter escorted her away, the atmosphere shifted palpably, the jeering dismissal of the crowd giving way to hushed awe. Those gathered at the banquet were the elite of high society, each person an intricate thread in the lavish tapestry of wealth. Among them, a hierarchy existed even among the affluent. Tonight, the more commonplace members of the upper class were mingling on the first floor, laughing and sipping cocktails, while those with true power staged their affairs on the coveted second floor. “Did you see? Avery Tate has been invited up there! Who could possibly be her benefactor?” one socialite gasped in disbelief. “No idea! We’re barred from the second floor. All I know is she must have something up her sleeve! Even if her sponsor is some decrepit old man, that’s a major score for her!” another replied, eyes wide with astonishment. “But there aren’t many old men at this banquet, right?” “Is she just toying with us?” The crowd craned their necks, glancing towards the second floor, but the mystery remained unsolved. When Avery reached the round table, a small group of men awaited her, no more than ten in number, but all of them exuding an air of authority. She slid into a chair beside Elliot, the dining table before them laden with exquisite gourmet dishes. Avery cast a sidelong glance at Elliot and teased playfully, “You didn’t drag me up here just for dinner, did you?” His brow arched slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he replied in a low, confident tone, “Cole will be here soon. Didn’t you have a little clandestine meeting with him while I was away on business? I thought it would be fitting for you to meet him here, in the open.” Avery raised an eyebrow, taken aback. Did he think she was pining for Cole? That her heart couldn’t bear the separation for even a moment? How absurd! But the truth was, she was famished, her stomach growling in protest from missing dinner, and she had no intention of engaging in a debate. Instead, she picked up her knife and fork, diving into the feast before her with relish. “Mr. Foster,” one of the guests initiated, their voice dripping with disdain, “your nephew still owes me three million dollars! It may seem trifling, but with your relationship deteriorating, I feel compelled to pursue him for repayment.” Another chimed in, mockery lining his tone, “I once caught him trying to charm my twenty-year-old daughter. Can you imagine? I gave him a piece of my mind—he thought he could scam me into investing just as he’d attempted to woo my little girl! It’s revolting!” “And let me tell you, Cole Foster is notorious in financial circles. He has the uncanny ability to turn every investment into a disaster. You can’t help but feel a twinge of pity for him. Without his father’s backing, he would have fallen into oblivion long ago!” As the men laughed and derided Cole, Elliot’s gaze inadvertently drifted back to Avery, his interest piqued. “Are you checking to see if I’ve lost my appetite?” she shot back, meeting his gaze squarely. “The food is delightful, but this pasta? Just a tad undercooked. I’m done.” With a decisive flick, she set down her utensils, then declared, “I’m not interested in discussing your business dealings. I’m leaving.” As she stood up, intent on making her exit, Elliot’s hand shot out to grasp her arm, halting her in her tracks. Avery glared at him, irritation flashing in her eyes. “You must have too much time on your hands. I have a thesis to write! If you don’t let me go, I’ll just send it to you, and you can finish it for me.” At the sight of her frustrated expression, Elliot slowly released his hold, allowing her to slip away. Once back on the first floor, Avery spotted Cole, champagne glass in hand, leaning slightly forward as he showered praise upon a small flock gathered around him. The sight was not worth her time—she had long moved past him. Turning on her heel, she strode out of the villa, each step liberating her from the pretense of the evening. Elliot returned home that night around 10 p.m. Mrs. Cooper, ever watchful, caught sight of him as he entered. “Did Madam Avery not accompany you, sir?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow. Elliot glanced at his wristwatch, then furrowed his brows. “She left at eight. She’s still not home?” A tinge of concern flickered across his face, a stark contrast to the lively banquet that had adorned his evening.