Chapter 99: Hangover
Samuel stood by the open rear door of the running sedan, his expression completely blank, though his eyes subtly flicked down to Nat’s bare legs.
Deep within the calculating, clinical gears of his brain, a massive, beautifully malicious tick of absolute satisfaction registered.
He was elated at how karma struck this lawless barbarian. Though he simply bowed his head with flawless corporate grace.
"I have adjusted the air conditioner to suit the heaviness of the alcohol, Mr. Reed," Samuel announced, his voice smooth as silk. "I have activated the high-efficiency air filtration system as well. Miss April will not suffer any further olfactory distress."
Xavier carefully lowered April onto the plush leather backseat, handling her with the exact level of precise care one would afford a hyper-volatile explosive device.
He slid in right beside her, letting her messy brown hair settle against his shoulder as Alexander took the spot at her other side.
Samuel smoothly closed the door, cutting off the lingering, chaotic noise of the city’s upper tier.
Nat aggressively snatched the front passenger door open, sliding his massive frame into the leather seat with a heavy, irritated grunt that made the car’s suspension subtly dip.
"I’m riding up here," he growled toward Samuel, tossing his shades onto the dashboard. "And if you say a single word about the leather matching my current lack of clothing, I’ll dismantle your engine block with my bare hands and then we’ll all be stranded."
Samuel looked at him for a second, no visible expression on his face, and simply shifted the gear into drive, his hands resting on the steering wheel with absolute, unbothered precision as the sedan glided away from the curb.
"I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Collins." He’s such a brute, a barbarian. "I am merely focusing on the primary transit." Why does Miss April associate with this psychopath? She’s too good for him. I wish I could toss him out of the car. "Please be sure to put on your seat belts." He said and the car finally began to move.
Thursday, June 3, 2026 — 09:30 AMThe Reed Mountain Estate — April’s SuiteThe morning sunlight filtered through the heavy velvet curtains and successfully violently assaulted April’s eyelids like a personal attack.
"Mhm..." Her eyes wrinkled in their sleep and a sharp pain hit through her head. "Ugh, my head," she groaned, her voice coming out like a dry and somewhat scratchy whisper as she forced her eyes open.
Her brain felt like it was being slammed by two hammers from both sides, her tongue felt like sandpaper, and her muscles carried a dull, pounding ache that felt entirely too much like the aftermath of a minor zombie skirmish.
She rolled over onto her side, her hand blindly reaching toward the nightstand.
Her fingers knocked against a cold glass but thankfully, it didn’t fall.
April blinked her blurry vision into focus. Resting beside her bed was a tall glass of ice-cold water on a small silver tray with two hangover tablets, and a meticulously written note on crisp Reed Industries stationery.
Miss April,
Your dress has been cleaned and will be back in your closet once it is dry. Please take the medicine immediately. Mr. Reed will be currently waiting in the glass pavilion by the time you wake up. He has things he wants to discuss. And I... I will be running the errands we talked about the previous day.
— Samuel
April let out a long, weary sigh, her fingers trembling slightly as she swallowed the pills and drained the entire glass of water.
The cold fluid cut through the dry burn in her throat, gradually stopping the room from spinning but then she began to cough.
She felt horrible.
So this is what a hangover is. She thought to herself, having remembered people talking about how great it was to drown themselves in alcohol but the more alcohol consumed, the greater the hangover came in the morning.
April sat up, her hand coming through her messy hair and her mind slowly, horribly began to piece together the fragmented pieces of the night before.
The auction... the divine dog... the Morgans and Pearson ganging up on her...
And then... the bar.
The memory of her standing barefoot on top of the mahogany table, screaming about a big bang explosion, throwing up entirely over the city’s most feared underground warlord, and playfully patting the face of the wealthiest tycoon in the state came rushing back with the force of a freight train.
April completely froze, her eyes wondering and her hand going to her mouth, looking from side to side as if there was someone there to spectate her reaction.
What in the...? What happened? What did she say?
We’re all going to die. The words came rushing back but they were not clear. How much did she say to them?
She shoved her hands through her hair, shaking the healthy strands as if the missing pieces of her memory would suddenly fall out of it.
She got out of the bed, but her balance was slightly off so she fell back on the chair.
I am a complete idiot, she thought, her inner monologue dropping into a rare state of deep mortification as she placed her hands over her mouth, blowing into it and then fanning her face. I completely lost my mind and blurted out pretty much everything. I’m sure of it.
She finally stopped fanning herself and took in a deep breath, letting it out and decided to think for a second. But the thoughts didn’t come.
She let out a sharp, irritated click of her tongue. How did she slip-up so badly? Gosh, it was the alcohol. It was definitely the alcohol. I am never drinking again. She said to herself.
She tried to get up again, and this time her balance wasn’t off.
She wanted to scream into her pillow and yell at herself but this was not entirely a bad thing. She planned to tell them at some point. It was just earlier than planned. The problem was how to ask them for a payout for this information.
She dropped her hands on her waist and then blew the strand of hair sticking in front of her face.
"Right, let’s see their mood first. I’ll know what to do after I see how they’re taking the whole doomsday information."
Ten minutes later, dressed in a simple, loose-fitting gray sweater and her favorite padded black sneakers, April walked down the grand glass corridor leading toward the outdoor pavilion.
Her hair was tied back into a tight, neat ponytail, and her expression had fully reverted to its classic, untouchable stillness as if the drunken mess had not happened.
That’s right. She was yet to recall the most crucial information.
