Chapter 208: Charlie is a Better Man

"Did we just walk into a treasure cave?" Uncle Charlie remarked, eyes wide. "And you hid this from me?"

"Obviously," I replied dryly. "Otherwise, my collection would be long gone."

He glared at me but kept inspecting the labels.

"Romanée-Conti and Louis XIII," Heidi noted. "You guys are really wealthy."

"Take whatever you like for tonight. Though, for the record, those two are on the cheaper end here"

Romanée-Conti depends on the vintage. No way I’m letting they drink my only 1945 bottle. I only have two of the 1978 as well… (they’re not on display)

She raised an eyebrow at me.

"Dalmore 62-Year," Uncle Charlie read aloud, pointing to the whiskey showcased in the center of the cellar. "So that’s why you mentioned bringing the old ladies…"

"Yeah, but you can only take one of those. Dalmore 62-Year had only 12 bottles ever produced, and I managed to get the three that were available through auctions or other means," I explained.

I basically drained the luxury whiskey market. If the hype for high-end whiskies explodes, the auction prices will probably skyrocket (not that I plan on selling them).

And I only managed to get these thanks to Pepper’s contacts. She secured some of them by trading ultra-rare items: autographed Marshmello CDs and masks (a scam for a scam—$45,000 for a whiskey, $30,000 for an autographed mask. Seems fair).

Charlie turned to Heidi. "We still have time before the ceremony. No need to arrive so early. How about we enjoy one of these?" he suggested, gesturing toward the Dalmore.

I asked her to grab two Romanée-Conti bottles, and as we passed by the other cellar, I picked up a few more normal ones.

---

While the three of them sat down, I went to get some whiskey and wine glasses (I had sent the maids home earlier so we could feel more at ease).

When I returned with the glasses, Uncle Charlie was already opening the Dalmore 62-Year. I placed the glasses on the table in front of the couch.

"Is everyone drinking?" Uncle Charlie asked.

"I’m not much of a drinker, especially something as strong as whiskey," Lindsay replied.

"Come on, Lindsay. Just take a sip," I said. "That’s a very rare whiskey—you won’t easily get another chance to try one of these."

"Out of curiosity, how much would a bottle like this be worth?" Heidi asked, inspecting it in Charlie’s hands.

"Hmm, if you took it to a specialized auction, maybe you’d get something like forty to forty-five thousand dollars for it," I said thoughtfully.

"Forty-five thousand?!" Lindsay shouted in astonishment.

Uncle Charlie whistled, while Heidi turned to me. She seemed a bit impressed, but not overly so.

"You don’t look that impressed, Heidi," I commented.

"While I’m not super rich, I’ve been to some ultra-luxurious parties. And you said Romanée-Conti was on the lower end of your list," she said, picking up the 1990 bottle from the table. "I know this one costs around seven or eight grand."

"Seven to eight grand," Lindsay murmured.

"See," I said jokingly, turning to her. "The gifts I gave you don’t seem so over the top now."

She looked down at her Tiffany and dress. "I’m really conflicted…"

"Don’t make her lose her sense of money," Heidi scolded me.

Yeah, I already lost mine. In my past life, I used to think that even if I were a billionaire, I wouldn’t spend money on frivolous things. And here I am, spending on several of them (even if some were trades).

But I have two arguments: me spending $45,000 is like Heidi spending $90 on a bottle of wine—ridiculously small for her standards.

And my time is very valuable; it’s not worth overthinking small purchases.

After a sip, I admitted, "Yeah, incredibly good… but not something I’d buy all the time (even if it were available)."

Lindsay coughed beside me.

"Even aged, whiskey is still whiskey," I commented, laughing at her.

When I turned back, Heidi was feeling the fabric of my suit.

"Heidi, are you already trying to steal your mentee’s partner?" I joked.

She gave me an amused smile. "You’re ten years too young to flirt with me, kid."

"Nah, you’re just too old, auntie," I jabbed back.

Heidi kept the same amused smile, while Lindsay failed to hold back a laugh.

"Lindsay, here’s another lesson," Heidi began. "There are two types of men—or maybe two types of situations." She ran her hand over Charlie’s suit. He raised an eyebrow and gave a faint smirk. She just playfully shook her head. "The first is how Charlie is dressed—a beautiful Brioni."

Lindsay nodded. "One of the most expensive suits, very famous thanks to James Bond."

"Correct. And there’s a second type—like Jake, wearing Kiton," she continued.

Seeing Lindsay clueless at the brand name, Heidi explained, "It’s not a brand well known to the general public. It’s more recognized within a circle of ultra-wealthy and fashion insiders. So that’s the second type—it draws attention only from a specific audience."

Then, running her hand over my suit again, she finished, "And especially one that’s bespoke like this—you know he has good connections. But well, that analysis would be more interesting if you hadn’t just seen all this." Heidi laughed.

Then suddenly Lindsay remembered something. "Oh, I need to let my parents know I’d be back late," I told her she could use the balcony to talk in private.

"Excuse me, I’ll be right back too," I said, not wanting to be the third wheel. Uncle Charlie gave me a thumbs up.

---

After a few minutes, I returned and went to the balcony. "So?" I asked Lindsay.

"I forgot I was supposed to go back to my parents’ house today. They scolded me but told me to take care of myself," she sighed.

We went back to the living room, but Uncle Charlie and Heidi were gone (along with the drinks).

"Where did they go?"

"I don’t know," I replied. "Since the ceremony venue is close by, we still have forty-five minutes."

---

Lindsay and I kept talking for a while (she scolded me when I tried to kiss her, saying it would mess up her lipstick). I glanced at the clock and said:

"It’s been over an hour… I’ll call him," I said, picking up my phone.

He answered right away with, "Not now, Jake."

"What do you mean, not now? It’s time for the ceremony…"

"Let’s forget about revenge or the ceremony—your uncle has become a better man," he replied.

I scoffed. "And becoming a better man has some correlation with one of my rooms and Heidi?"

He didn’t respond.

"You know you could do both, right?" I pointed out.

"I could, but not anymore…" Then I heard a "Woah, I gotta go," and he hung up.

I sighed. "Hey, Lindsay, change of plans." Yeah, I lost the will to go there.

---

Lindsay and I went to a luxurious art event (Cher got the invitations). But Archie didn’t come out on top—Grandma did her job splendidly (Uncle Charlie and I got scolded afterward, though).