Next morning...
The sun filtered through the curtains as Alexander slowly opened his eyes.
A dull, relentless throbbing pounded in his head, and he groaned, pressing a hand to his temple.
His vision was slightly blurred, but as it cleared, his gaze locked onto Eleanor's piercing glare. She sat stiffly in a chair beside the bed, her arms crossed.
"Finally awake?" Eleanor's voice was sharp, cutting through the silence.
Alexander immediately looked away, his mind scrambling to piece together the events of the previous night.
He remembered sitting alone in the VIP room, drowning his frustration in whiskey. He remembered accidentally calling Charlotte, hearing her voice, and then hastily hanging up.
After that, he'd downed the rest of the whiskey in one go. Everything after that was blank.
"How did I even get home?" he muttered under his breath, still holding his throbbing head.
