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Chapter 98

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Chapter 98 Where else could he be if not in the dining room? Dawson felt a twinge of apprehension and sprinted upstairs. When he barged into the bedroom, he was greeted by a pungent haze of smoke that set him off into a coughing fit. Clutching his nose, he strode in and flung the windows open, inviting in a breath of fresh air.

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Turning around, he found lan sitting stoically on the couch, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. The ashtray was a small mountain of stubs, and the floor was littered with a graveyard of empty beer bottles.

It clicked for Dawson in an instant. lan was showing all the classic signs of a broken heart.

Dawson handed lan a glass of water and said in a low voice, “Mr. Hayes, how about | clear your schedule for today? Why don’t you take the day off to rest at home?” lan lifted his weary eyes, his voice a raspy shadow of its usual strength. “Do | look that fragile to you?” “Mr. Hayes, it’s perfectly human to need a moment to process things. Besides, after spending three years with Ms. Clara, it's normal to feel a sense of loss now that she’s gone.” Dawson didn’t dare to point out the obvious-that his boss was unmistakably reeling from heartbreak. He chose his words to spare his pride.

As expected, lan managed a faint chuckle. “You think I'm mourning over her?” Dawson quickly agreed, “Of course not.” He stole a glance at lan, pulled out his phone, and tapped into a website. Handing it over, he remarked casually, “Since you're taking it so well, Mr. Hayes, | figured you'd want to know about this-it's no big deal.” As Dawson pointed at the clothes and jewelry on the screen, he added, “These items all seem familiar, don’t they? They look a lot like the things Ms. Clara used to wear. She wouldn't be selling the gifts you gave her online, would she?” lan snatched the phone, and/when he saw those items and the seller's ID, a storm brewed in his eyes.

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His jaw clenched audibly. /Clara, this is how you handle my gifts?” Dawson, feigning ignorance to his boss’ ire, deliberately twisted the knife. “Mr. Hayes, no need to get upset. You and Ms. Clara are done, and you let her take those things. Why would she keep them if not to sell? Who in their right mind clings to an ex’s stuff? Imagine If her new beau found them-talk about a recipe for a brawl. It's smart, really. She’s avoiding waste and potential fights. She's quite clever, Ms. Clara.” lan’s simmering anger erupted with Dawson’s words. In a swift motion, he hurled the phone against the wall, where it shattered.

Dawson was about to add more fuel to the fire when he realized the mangled device on the floor was his own.

Rushing over, he gathered up the fragments, his face the picture of gloom. “Mr. Hayes, what about keeping your cool? That was a Valentine's gift from my girlfriend. I've only had it for two days. I'm going to be on my knees scrubbing the floor tonight.” Cradling the broken pieces, he wore a look of utter dejection.

Dawson's pathetic expression lightened lan’s mood considerably. He raised an eyebrow and inquired, “How many hours of kneeling?” “It depends on the severity of the offense and the amount of money involved. She spent over a grand on that phone, and it was a Valentine's special edition. | won't be off the hook with just one night's worth of kneeling.” lan cracked a mischievous smile, stood up from the couch, and said with a hint of schadenfreude, “Well then, better start kneeling.” With that, he strode off into the bathroom.

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