Chapter 21

Chapter 21: Whiskey Won't Lie-1

Sean POW

The door slammed behind me with a satisfying

g crash that echoed through the penthouse hallway.

I stood there for a moment, waiting for what, I was I sure. Maybe for the sound of hurrying footsteps, for Angola's voice calling

my name,

Two years ago, she would have followed.

Would have appeared in the doorway with that mix of concern and stubbornness in her amber eyes, ready to continue whatever argument we were having until we reached some sort of resolution.

But the hallway remained silent.

I pulled out my phone, scanning through the banking alerts that had triggered my

initial anger.

Two years of marriage, and Angela hadn't touched a single cent of the money I'd transferred to her account.

Not the monthly allowance, not the "compensation" after our night together, nothing. The balance sat there, untouched, like some sort of silent accusation.

And now she wanted to move out? To get her own apartment? The thought made my blood boil all over again.

The elevator arrived with a soft chime. As I stepped in, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the polished brass - my normally immaculate appearance slightly disheveled, tie loosened, a muscle working in my jaw.

I looked exactly like what I was: a man who'd lost control of a situation he thought he had perfectly managed.

seat of the waiting town car. Peter nodded silently, already familiar with

"Metropolitan Club," I told the driver as I slid into the back seat of the waiting my preferred destination after difficult days.

As the car pulled away from Park Avenue, my mind drifted back to another time, another version of Angela.

She'd been waiting outside the student council room at Saint Paul's School, her dark hair caught in the winter wind, two cups of coffee steaming in her gloved hands.

"You missed dinner again,” she'd said, holding out one of the cups. The dining hall's closed, but I saved you a sandwich."

Even then, she'd been taking care of me, anticipating my needs before I know them myself. We were only th had that quiet strength about her.

When had that changed?.

thirteen, but she already

When had she become this stranger who refused my money, who spent lunch hours with Nathan Harrison, who looked at me with -such careful distance in her eyes?

of a helping hand. The casual familiarity in his voice when he called her, as if he had any right

the memories away. Tonight wasn't about Angela, or Nathan, or the mess my carefully ordered life had

network available now. Please check your

was about expensive whiskey and the blessed numbness it

1/2

21: Whiskey

Evan were already

"You look like shit."

Stacollan 25 across

dropped into my seat, loosening my further. "What?" Exan's eyebrows shot up.

chest. “She's found an apartment on 82nd Street. Says she wants to make her own

his head. "The monthly

touched it. I signaled for another drink. "Two years of marriage, and she hasn't spent a single cent of what

low whistle from Evan. "Seriously? Not even after... you know, that night?" My grip tightened on the

That night.

way Angela had felt in my arms- soft and warm and

The way

moved in rhythm with my own, and how she moaned at every single sensation that shot through her had me feeling more pleasure than I had ever felt before. I

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Pregnancy of

21: Whiskey Won't

fell asleep that

so elated and at

that I almost

about the current

big possibility that I would become completely

knew

"Says she doesn 1

from

and ugly twist in my

her health?" Evan's tone made it clear exactly what

found myself saying. "Ever since

Evan exchanged knowing looks. How is the

glass. "Angela and I agreed

you so much?" Evan's question cut uncomfortably close to thoughts I'd been

than the whiskey. "I just don't understand why she's being difficult about this. We can

around playing best friend while you build a

had they refilled my glass?

"Can't just move on? Can't

glass slammed down harder than I'd intended, whiskey sloshing over the sides. "Nathan Harrison is a second-rate trader who

easy

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