To find Anastasia

As Alex took the seat on the padded sofa, he wished his mother, whose forehead frowned. 

"Happy Birthday, Dear Mother."

This line was not less than a taunt for Penelope. She looked at her son, who was looking no less than a drunkard. His shirt was inside while the other half was outside his pants; his hair was disheveled and he was stinking badly. 

Stavros thought to handle the matter. "Sir, the CEO was busy in an important meeting with our Italian client. He ended up taking a few shots," Stavros lied to them. 

"Stav, don't tell a lie," Alex said with a smile and then looked into the eyes of his mother, "She doesn't care if I tell her truth or tell a lie. Did you enjoy the day with your friend group? What rare gifts did they give you?"