Rio's point of view: The Penthouse, late at night
The whiskey hurts going down, but I don't mind. I drank four glasses. Five, maybe. I don't count anymore.
After everyone had left the office, I left at 6 PM. I couldn't stand the way they were looking at me. The pity mixed with the plan. How they were already getting ready to make the new leader happy.
My wife.
I want to throw something when I think about it.
I drive for hours, just driving through the city and past the places that used to mean something to me. The Kalinawan building is where I spent my whole life working on something that was supposed to be mine. The restaurants where I had business dinners that felt important. The penthouse where I thought I was in charge.
It doesn't feel real anymore.
When I get home, I'm drunk enough that I don't care about being polite or having a plan. I only care about the anger that's burning in my chest.
I slam the door open so hard that it hits the wall.
