Chapter 13

Clara's POV

His hands were clasped at his temples.

If he was this logical when inebriated, I can't fathom what kind of person he was when sober. I had nearly forgotten he was inebriated. What are the possibilities that he would forget any of this occurred, with him this inebriated?

"I'm having a headache right now because of you and your miserable life," he said, placing his palm on his forehead. "I need you to leave right now." He went on.

He let go of his phone.

Did he mention that he wanted me to go? He made no mention of firing me.

No, I was misinterpreting; he most likely intended for me to go and never return. Stated differently, I lost my job.

"Please sir, don't fire me." I kept on pleading.

The water trickling from my damp hair had become indistinguishable from my tears.

With a groan, he left the bedroom.

I kept up my tail and followed him.

He had come past the living room, and I had halted in my tracks.

"Do I have to open the door for you to leave?" He exhaled.

"Please, sir,