“Got it. We'll tidy up or shift you to a cleaner room. This one's a mess."

Agreeing, Leonel relocated to a neater spot, nursing his drink solo.

He was drinking alone.

Occasionally, he'd glance at his phone, wondering when Alexis might ring.

If she didn't bother, he figured he might just crash here. Clearly, she wasn't missing him.

His bad mood was a slippery slope to getting plastered.

Before downing both bottles, Leonel was already tipsy, slouching on the couch, squinting against the harsh light.

In walked a slender silhouette.

"Mr. Douglas?"

The woman's voice was gentle and surprised.

Respecting his status, she kept her distance, crouching slightly. "Mr. Douglas, what brings you here? Are you alright? Need me to call someone for you?"

Who's this now? He thought.

Leonel blinked, his eyes focusing on a young, striking face, oddly familiar yet elusive.

What was it?

In his drunken haze, he struggled to place her.

His brain went blank. He stared at the young woman in front of him.

The woman's name was Anika Cohen. She was a fresh face in Duefron's TV scene. Beauty's her game, but in this industry, looks alone wouldn't cut it. One had to have the right connections.

And in Anika's mind, Leonel could be her golden ticket.

Late into the night, a married man, half sloshed, dozed off solo in the club-a clear sign of marital woes. Anika gently introduced herself, "Hey, I'm from Chanel B. We crossed paths during that interview last time, remember? Had lunch together?"

Even if he wasn't blitzed, Leonel couldn't recall.