After returning to his room, Bert found Lucas still sleeping. Apparently disturbed by his presence, Lucas woke up with a puzzled expression on his small face, "Mr. Harper?"
His expression seemed a little strange. Why was he standing there so early in the morning?
Bert had lived for over thirty years, and it was the first time his mind was in such chaos, so chaotic that his entire head felt illogical. Scenes from this morning and fragmented moments from last night all merged into one, culminating in the image of a girl with teary eyes.
He opened the mini-fridge in the hotel room, took out a bottle of water, and gulped it down. However, this did not ease his troubled mind; instead, it only made it more chaotic.
"Bang!"
He slammed the half-empty bottle back onto the table, and his eyes unintentionally landed on the bottle of red wine, drunk a third of the way, on the table. His dark eyes filled with a storm as he picked it up, resealed it with the cork, and then called one of his trusted subordinates.
"Help me find out who handled the red wine delivered to my room last night."
After hanging up the phone, he put the bottle of wine into the trash bin. Wine could be discarded, but he couldn't throw away the troubles in his heart.
Lucas noticed that he was not in a good mood. The little one got out of the big bed and, wearing the hotel slippers, walked up to the tall figure. With his tender little hand, he held the man's cold hand, saying, "Mr. Harper, what's wrong?"
Bert raised his eyes and met a pair of clear and concerned eyes. He gently touched the boy's furry head and said, "It's nothing. Go and change your clothes and wash up; we'll go and have breakfast downstairs."
He did his best not to burden the child with his negative emotions.
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