CHAPTER 9

RAYMOND’S POV.

I woke up feeling rusty and sluggish. Figured it may be the alcohol of the previous night doing its job.

Headed downstairs for lunch since I missed my breakfast some hours ago. As I descended the stairs, I noticed Elena was already seated at the dining table, likely waiting for Mary to get her lunch.

Lately, Elena and I barely exchanged words. We say a few hellos and hi's whenever we came across each other.

I sat at the dining table and responded to her “Hello” while requesting some oven-dried chicken with macaroni Pasta salad.

Hmm, back at this issue again. The president doesn't give a damn about you all. You go on protests every other week and nothing changes," I muttered, staring at the television.

"Yet you still believe them. That's the difference between you guys," I pointed at the television, "and the rich, ha ha," I scoffed as I forced a piece of dried chicken placed in front of me.

"Bring me some orange juice," I called out to one of the housekeepers standing