When fate plays its hand

Sam had declined Mindy’s invitation to stay at the house and checked into a hotel instead.

He went to a bat, ordered several bottles of strong liquor, and drank one glass after another. Throughout the night, women approached him, attempting to flirt, but he pushed them all away without exception.

By the time his face was flushed red and his vision blurred with double images, he finally left for his hotel Oir the way back, his mind was clouded, and every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Miranda’s

face

He couldn’t understand why he was always a step too late

In the past, he had lost to Hansel. Now, he was losing again–this time to the cursed title of “cousin“.

He let out a bitter laugh. The heavens had never shown him any favor! Stumbling out of the cab, Sam wavered as he made his way into the hotel.

As he exited the elevator, a faint scent of perfume reached his nose, followed by the soft press of a woman’s body against his arm. Her voice dripped with syrupy sweetness as she boldly teased, “Hey, handsome, All alone tonight? You seem a little drunk How about I help you back to your room?”

The alcohol dulled his reactions, making him slower than usual But eventually, he raised his arm and nearly shoved the woman away. “Get lost! Don’t touch me!”

He reacted in disgust, as if he had encountered something filthy

The woman’s face twisted with embarrassment and anger. She sneered, spat on the ground, and retorted, Who do you think you are, shoving me like that? You’re just a drunk loser who’s probably dumped by someone. What’s so great about you, anyway?”

Little did she know, her words hit Sam right where it hurt. He laughed coldly, lifting his chin as icy disdain. gleamed in his eyes

The woman flinched as her bravado evaporated. She scurried away without daring to say another word.

Sam lowered his gaze, pulling out his phone with a sudden urge to call Miranda. But when he saw that it was 1:00 am, he hesitated. His thumb hovered over the screen before he let out a resigned sigh and put the phone

away.

Two hotel staff members passing by noticed how drunk he was and approached to ask if he needed assistance. Sam handed over his room card, gesturing for them to help him to his room.

One staff member steadied him while the other used the card to unlock the door. Together, they guided him to the bed and helped him lie down before leaving.

As they walked away, one staff member remarked, “How much do you think he drank to get this wasted? Even people staying in business suites have their troubles, huh?”

The other replied, “How could you even tell how much he drank?”

“The smell of alcohol was so strong I could barely breathe. Did you notice he was already unconscious before we even got him to the bed?”

“I did. Did you hear him mumbling something earlier?”

“It sounded like… “Nini‘ or something? Whatever, it’s not our business At least he’s safe now”

“Still, we should let the front desk know. Better keep an eye on the suite area”

Morning came to Lumberville, bringing with it the lively bustle of everyday life.

Not far from the villa district was a large marketplace, already teeming with activity by 8:00 am. All the elderly shoppers‘ baskets were brimming with fresh produce, and they were leaving the market with satisfied smiles. This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

Even within the villa district, small groups of neighbors pulled shopping carts as they made their way toward the market.

“It’s all about freshness!” one woman declared.

“Young people these days only know how to make money. What do they know about picking vegetables or choosing the best cuts of meat? It’s up to us moms to handle it.”

“Going to the farmers‘ market is tradition. Let those who like supermarkets go there. I prefer haggling for my produce!”

“Same here! But my daughter and son–in–law love their imported products. Yet everything is overpriced and tasteless! Nothing beats the fresh produce from the market.”

At that moment, Nelly, who just stepped out of her car, surveyed the nearby villa district with its decent surroundings but couldn’t help overhearing the nearby chatter of middle–aged women.

Her brow furrowed slightly as a hint of disdain crossed her face.

Lumberville, huh? It was supposedly a city, but really, what difference was there between this and a small town?

Small places rarely produced anyone of significance. Even an eagle that landed here would likely turn into just another common chicken.