Bottle after bottle, he drowned himself in alcohol, hoping to escape the weight of his guilt, though knowing it would never truly leave him.
Jack couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep.
The house was losing every trace of Freya—her scent, her presence—fading to the point where it was unbearable for him to stay.
Yet no matter how many bottles of alcohol he downed, he couldn’t escape into oblivion. Instead of numbing his pain, the liquor only made his mind sharper, cruelly reminding him of her absence.
He let out a bitter laugh, clutching a half-empty bottle.
“Freya… I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice slurred but filled with raw emotion. “I shouldn’t be drinking.
You hated it when I smelled like alcohol…”
“Come back, yell at me if you want. Scold me. Just… just show yourself, and I swear I’ll stop drinking.”
His tone was almost childlike, pleading with a desperation that bordered on madness.
Hearing Jack was at the bar, a group of his so-called friends arrived, bringing along a lineup of young, attractive women.
The man in a burgundy shirt leaned in close to the girls and whispered, “Whoever can win over Mr. Sterling tonight won’t have to worry about living in luxury ever again.”
The women nodded eagerly and entered the room one by one, each competing for a spot closest to Jack.
“Mr. Sterling…”
A sultry voice purred beside him as a stunning woman slid into the chair on his left. Her fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, tracing his skin.
“Get out!”
Jack’s expression darkened like a brewing storm.
Without hesitation, he grabbed a bottle and smashed it against the head of the glamorous woman closest to him.
Blood immediately began to flow, staining the floor.
The woman let out a sharp scream, only to be met with a furious kick from Jack, sending her sprawling across the room.
“Who gave you the audacity? Disgusting. Get out! Now!”
In the next moment, the rest of the women bolted like frightened birds, scrambling to escape.
None of them dared to stay.
Better to be groped by strangers outside than risk leaving this room bruised and bloodied, gaining nothing for their trouble.
Jack’s brow furrowed in irritation, his eyes shadowed with a restless fury. He pinched the bridge of his nose before grabbing another bottle and tilting it back, the liquor spilling down his throat.
The men who had brought the women exchanged uneasy glances and sighed.
