Clyde closed the door behind him with a heavy thud, leaning against it for a moment as he let out a long, frustrated sigh. His shoulders sagged.
He had been practically thrown out of his own room without knowing why.
The morning had started with good intentions. He had risen earlier than usual, feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep, determined to catch up on the mountain of work that had been waiting for him. For nearly two hours, he sat hunched on a chair in the balcony, his long fingers tapping on his phone, sorting through documents, eyes narrowing as he flipped from one file to the next. He had barked clipped responses into calls with directors, issued swift instructions to assistants. But then he heard Micah's voice. The boy's body twisted on the bed, sheets tangled around his limbs as he cried out.
He had genuinely been worried when he shook the boy awake. But he hadn't expected that instead of Micah he would wake up the king of Yama.
