The next afternoon.
Sinclair only left after lunch as Camilla's insistence.
"What's this?"
His dark, inscrutable eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Ramsey's pronounced dark circles.
"Didn't sleep well last night?"
"No, no," Ramsey immediately straightened up, shaking his head with a forced chuckle.
"Shall we head to the office first, or...?"
Truth was, he hadn't just slept poorly—he hadn't slept a wink.
Leaning back against the seat, Sinclair slowly closed his eyes.
"To the outskirts."
It wasn't Camilla or Ramsey he doubted, but Micheal.
Whatever had happened, he refused to let those around him shoulder the burden for him.
"...Understood," Ramsey had no choice but to start the car and head toward the outskirts of the city, his eyes brimming with anxiety.
Whether intentional or not, President Luther hadn't given him a single opportunity to speak with Madam alone since yesterday.
