The realization nearly drove Aaron to the brink of madness.
But as his gaze fell on Serena's peaceful, sleeping face, he suppressed the urge to lose control and gently closed the door behind him.
He headed downstairs, got into his car, and drove off to Neon Haze.
Neon Haze was a bar owned by Frederick.
At 3 a.m., the bar had just passed its peak of chaos, yet it hadn't completely quieted down.
Aaron navigated through the staggering patrons, making his way to a private room on the second floor.
He pushed the door open.
The door slammed against the wall with a loud bang, abruptly silencing the sounds of dice games, laughter, and whispered conversations within.
Everyone inside turned to stare at Aaron, who stood at the entrance radiating a menacing aura.
"Out!" Aaron commanded coldly, and the chill in his voice froze the room solid.
In an instant.
The crowd rose and poured out of the room.
Only Frederick remained seated on the couch, unmoved, casually swirling the drink in his glass. “Well, Mr. Vance, what’s got you so riled up?”
Aaron ignored Frederick and reached for a bottle of liquor, unscrewing the cap.
“Hey, hey, that’s vodka…”
Frederick tried to stop him as Aaron took a deep swig of the vodka, but it was too late.
The vodka burned its way down Aaron’s throat, igniting a fire in his chest and gut.
Yet Aaron’s expression remained unchanged, as if he had just swallowed water instead of vodka.
Frederick frowned at the sight. “Really, Mr. Vance? Drowning your sorrows in alcohol?”
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