So now, they couldn’t comprehend why he was still mired in grief and regret.
After all, wasn’t Freya just another woman? What made her so special?
But the moment Jack heard them dismiss Freya so casually, fury surged through him like wildfire.
Without hesitation, he grabbed a bottle and swung it, smashing it over the first man’s head.
One by one, he lashed out, and no one in the room was spared.
Despite the heavy drinking, his strikes were precise and unrelenting, each punch landing with brutal efficiency.
Those who tried to intervene and break up the fight didn’t fare any better, ending up with black eyes and swollen faces for their efforts.
In no time, the private room was filled with groaning men, sprawled out like fallen soldiers, none daring to move.
“Freya is my life,” Jack said coldly, his voice cutting through the tense air. “If I ever hear any of you speak ill of her again, you’d better watch out for your families. I won’t let it slide.”
The room fell deathly silent.
No one dared to move, let alone speak.
For most of them, this was the first time they had seen Jack lose his temper like this.
The once-boisterous group now looked like sparrows caught in a storm, frozen in fear.
After what felt like an eternity, the oppressive silence lifted slightly when Jack turned back to his drink, resuming his brooding over the bottle.
The tension eased, but only just.
However, one man seethed with quiet resentment. Nursing his swollen face, he slipped out of the room and found the bar manager.
“See this woman in the photo?” he said, holding up his phone with a picture of Freya. “Find me a few women who look like her—the closer the resemblance, the better. Bring them here as quickly as possible.”
He sent the photo to the manager for reference.
With connections to other clubs and lounges in Riverdale that catered to the elite, such a request was easy to fulfill.
Before long, a young woman with a faint resemblance to Freya knocked gently on the door to the private room.
“Excuse me… were you the ones who requested my service?”
She spoke timidly, her voice barely above a whisper, as she pushed a cart laden with drinks and light snacks into the room.
When the door swung open, the others in the room couldn’t hide their surprise. The girl did bear a slight resemblance to Freya.
However, she was younger, her features softer and less refined, carrying a certain innocence that set her apart.
The men exchanged knowing glances, silently signaling for her to approach Jack.
They smirked confidently, convinced that Jack wouldn’t turn her away.
“Sir… is this the drink you ordered?”
The girl stepped closer, stopping just in front of Jack, her voice soft as she addressed him.
