The bar was filled with beautiful women, but none quite had the presence that Lydia did. As soon as she stepped inside, men holding drinks were quick to approach her.

"Hey gorgeous, I've got a booth over there and a bottle of whiskey. Why don't you join us for a drink?"

"Forget him, come with me. I'm a VIP member here. Whatever you want, we'll order it."

Without so much as a glance, Lydia brushed past them, her expression unchanged. "Excuse me."

She made her way to the bar, took out her card, and rented a private booth for herself. She ordered a case of beer and sat down alone. She mechanically cracked open bottles, one after the other, pouring the liquid down her throat. Before long, the table was littered with empty bottles.

Lydia had hoped the alcohol would dull the pain, but the more she drank, the clearer her mind became. Unwanted memories flooded in. Snapshots of Quincy filled her thoughts.

work to their everyday life together, all these fragments blended into the image of him kneeling,

been mistreated, her career was thriving,

aside as she struggled to her feet. "Bring me some whiskey.

it wouldn't get her drunk enough to forget. She needed something stronger. Maybe

Quincy was silently downing drink after drink. His striking features, combined with an air of wealth, marked him as someone special. He sat alone, which

to him. Her hand snaked around his waist as she cooed, "Hey

has to

dripped with seduction, and her revealing outfit left little to the imagination. With an open back and a plunging neckline, she flaunted every asset, hoping

succumbed by either pulling her into his arms or pretending to be indifferent while his gaze lingered on her figure. But Quincy wasn't like other men. Without even sparing her

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