"Shut up!" Chad Yakov staggered up from the sofa, his bleary eyes finally showing a trace of clarity.
He shouted at Charles White, then turned to look at the manager behind him.
"You, stop staring, it's you... hic, help me to the car, home!"
"Yes, Young Master Yakov!" As soon as the manager heard Chad Yakov was willing to leave, he quickly ran to his side, supporting his unsteady body, and walked out of the booth seat.
They didn't go through the gate; they exited the pub from the back.
Chad Yakov was truly drunk; once in the car, he collapsed onto the car backseat, no matter how much Charles White called him, he remained motionless like a corpse.
"Drinking like this, he really doesn't want to live!" Charles White cursed under his breath, gripping the steering wheel with both hands and pressing down the accelerator, heading towards his villa.
On the way, he had already called Molly.
By the time their car arrived, Molly was already waiting at the door.
