Chapter 97

The sleepless night took its toll on Calvin. His temples throbbed incessantly, each thought of Alexia stoking the flames of his fury. The mere thought of her lies and audacity made him want to tear her apart. By morning, his wrath spilled over to his subordinates. The company's high-level executives bore the brunt of it. They left his office battered and bewildered after a series of scathing reprimands. That afternoon, Wilbur arrived at the company looking for Calvin, only to find his office empty. Frowning, he guessed where Calvin might be and headed to his usual haunt—the bar. As soon as Wilbur pushed open the door to Calvin's private room, he froze. Calvin was there, seated alone, nursing a bottle of liquor. Wilbur blinked, certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. He rubbed his eyes for good measure. Calvin didn't disappear—instead, he was glaring at him. "Well," Wilbur said with a grin, plopping himself down beside Calvin. "The sun must've risen in the west today. Is the