My chest rose and fell with anger.
"You say this isn’t a curse? Not even a dog would believe that."
Anyone walking in would’ve been stunned.
At the center of the venue stood a large standee with my portrait.
Behind it, an enormous funeral wreath. The whole place reeked of death.
To someone who didn’t know better, it looked more like a funeral than a birthday.
Jenna looked displeased.
"Isn’t a wreath made of flowers, too? Stop being so superstitious. Carson is kind and gentle. How could he possibly curse you? I think these flowers are just as meaningful as roses. It’s only a birthday. You should be thankful. Why make a fuss like some spoiled young master?"
Seeing the tense atmosphere, Carson, still holding the black-and-white photo, stepped forward, flustered. His eyes were red, his voice trembling.
"Brother Bryce, please don’t be angry. Today is the third anniversary of my mom’s death. She never celebrated a birthday in her entire life. President Walton knew I only earn 3,000 dollars a month and couldn’t afford a ceremony, so she said it was fine to combine it with your celebration, so my mom could also feel joy. I didn’t think you’d be so upset..."