Wayne Sawyer immediately pulled open a drawer, found the remote for the air conditioner, and in one go, dropped the temperature from 28 to 18 degrees.
He didn't know why, but his entire body suddenly felt off. There was a swollen, heated sensation in his lower abdomen.
"It's late. We can talk tomorrow. I'm tired and I need to rest." Wayne Sawyer shot to his feet and gave Sylvia Young a shove.
As he pushed her, Sylvia Young deliberately reached up, pulled down the strap of her nightgown, and asked him pitifully, "Father, why are you so angry? Why did you rip my clothes?"
'When had he ever ripped her clothes?'
Wayne Sawyer was furious, but his body was in such agony that he had no choice but to head for the door himself.
But Sylvia Young wasn't about to give him the chance. Just as he neared the door, she suddenly threw her arms around him from behind.
"Father, where are you going?"
The night was a nightmare.
A dream belonging to an old man in his fifties.
