The man who maintained absolute, cold rationality at all times—the supreme ruler of the Hayes Group—had actually gone out to drown his sorrows alone.
Was it because he saw those old keepsakes at the manor today and was overwhelmed by past memories, or was he just frustrated with himself for exploding at her?
Whatever the reason, Nora had absolutely zero desire to get involved.
"Just have the driver bring him back, get him a room, or call Giselle."
Nora rejected the plea without a second of hesitation.
"Ma'am, Mr. Hayes is in a really bad state right now. He smashed things in the VIP room. Giselle is still out of the country, and he explicitly forbade us from calling her. He's fighting off the bodyguards every time they try to touch him."
"Then let him keep drinking."
Nora prepared to end the call.
"Ma'am!"
Liam begged through the phone. "Please, just come over. You are the only person he might listen to right now. Even when Mr. Hayes is furious, he would never..."
Nora closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
She wanted nothing more than to hang up and tell the assistant that Gideon's life or death was none of her business. But she understood the Hayes family rules perfectly. If Gideon truly caused a scandal by blacking out in public, the family elders would pin the blame entirely on her as his wife.
She was still Mrs. Hayes. In the eyes of the public, they were still tied together.
If Gideon made the front page for trashing a club, not only would the Hayes Group's stock take a hit, but the Xavier family would also suffer the collateral damage.
"Send me the address."
Nora finally caved.
After hanging up, she threw a coat over her shoulders and walked back out of the villa.
Led by a club attendant, Nora navigated the chaotic hallways up to the exclusive top-floor VIP room.
Pushing open the heavy, soundproof door, the suffocating stench of hard liquor hit her instantly.
The lighting in the room was incredibly dim. On the table in front of the massive leather sofa, several empty liquor bottles lay knocked over.
Gideon sat completely alone in the corner of the sofa. His suit jacket was nowhere to be seen, the collar of his pitch-black dress shirt was unbuttoned, and his tie hung loose and discarded around his neck.
His head hung slightly low, one hand propping up his forehead. His entire being radiated a dark, defensive, depressive aura that warned everyone to stay away.

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