Murray's face was a mask of barely contained frustration and impatience.

He glanced at the clock. It was only 8 PM, yet his phone had been ringing off the hook at home-four or five times already. Three of those calls were from his mom, and the other one was from Millie. He figured she knew he wouldn't pick up after one try, which showed some restraint on her part.

Still, that hardly calmed his irritation, especially knowing an outsider was now living in his villa.

Cliff checked the time. "What, calling it a night already? It's still early."

Murray didn't respond. Cliff could tell, despite Murray's outward composure, he was on the verge of exploding, so he didn't push further-

"My driver's downstairs. I'll have him take you home."

"Thanks."

"All formal with me?" Cliff set down his beer. "Let me walk you out."

Murray waved him off. "Nah, keep the party going."

As Murray's figure receded into the distance, York couldn't help but chuckle, a mix of sympathy and schadenfreude in his laughter.

"Some guys hunt all day only to get pecked in the eye by the prey. Millie's really got a hold on him, huh?"

sighed. "Cut him some slack. He's

about cutting ties and hitting the books now..." "We even bet on how

had watched Murray and Roseanne's tumultuous relationship of

really patient, putting up with six years,

couldn't respect a woman like

dog, always running back at the

wolf in disguise, managing to manipulate two men and turn best friends into sworn enemies, now avoiding each other

we call Corley Sullivan over now that

comes back and they run

scaredy-cat!" York pulled

come hang with

other end, a deep voice answered,

no worries about

"It's not about him."

puzzled. "Then

out late, no drinking unless it's absolutely necessary. Basic

baffled. "You okay?

"I'm

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