Time flew by, and soon it was the day before Claudia's birthday.
In previous years, she had always celebrated it with York, and the parties were always huge.
Even after the Watkins family went bankrupt, Peter would still book The Imperial Hotel and set up a lavish birthday party for her every year.
This year was no exception.
Peter and Darleen had decorated the ballroom early and sent out invitations to all their friends.
Just as Peter was directing the staff to brighten the lights, York pushed the door open.
Peter casually slung his jacket over his shoulder. “You know you can count on me, right?”
York's gaze fell on a wall of red roses, and his expression flickered.
He pointed at the wall of crimson flowers and ordered the staff in a cold voice, “Get rid of all the red roses.”
Peter was baffled. “Wait, what? You didn't use red roses for the proposal, and now you're swapping them out again. Are you allergic to them or something?”
York looked down, offering a curt excuse. “Red is too tacky.”
In his past life, he had once ordered a bouquet of red roses for Ann.
After that, Claudia could never stand the sight of them.
Peter stared at York for a long moment, then gestured for the staff to take down the red roses.
“Roses symbolize love, you know,” Peter said. “I'm just trying to help you out.”
York's gaze dropped, and he fell silent.
Peter continued:
“Red roses represent passionate, true love, perfect for a confession.”
“Purple represents enchantment, nobility, and love at first sight.”
“Champagne roses symbolize mysterious romance.”
“White roses represent purity, sanctity, and first love. They symbolize a new beginning and eternity, perfect for a wedding.”
...
After listing off several more, Peter said, “Just pick a color, and I'll have them swapped out.”
“Use white roses,” York said.
Peter had the staff replace every flower in the venue with white roses.


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