Chapter 304 Ch Three Hundred And Four

• Andre Meyer was losing it too. He was seated in a suite that reeked of the smell of stale coffee, half-smoked cigarettes, hangover, and the glass of whiskey he had thrown against the wall the night before, as glass shards glittered near the minibar in the room.
• He was pacing in tight circles, his hands running through his hair again and again as frustration climbed the very last nerve of him.
• They were done for! All of them. He, his mother, and Isla. They had been thrown out of the conglomerate tactically by Malcolm, and he didn't even make a noise about it.