SEVENTY NINE

WILLIAM'S POV

I drove back home, my nose bleeding all over the leather car seat. The pain was sharp, throbbing in rhythm with my heartbeat. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of agony through my face, and the sight of blood dripping onto the pristine leather only made me angrier.

"Slyvia, you bitch," I muttered under my breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. How dare she show up and ruin my night? I slammed my fist against the dashboard, wincing at the pain that shot through my hand.

As I drove through the city streets, the neon lights of the nightlife blurred past me. I could feel my anger ragging over, I was humiliated in front of broke ass people who couldn't even afford the shoes I am wearing. This was supposed to be a night of fun, a distraction, but instead, it turned into a nightmare.

I thought back to the bar, to Slyvia's defiant face and the way she had called me out. And then there was Beverly, adding fuel to the fire. I couldn't believe how things had escalated so qui