Chapter 115

Alexander

Sunday morning greeted me with perfect golfing weather: clear skies, mild temperature, and just enough breeze to make things interesting. It was the kind of day that almost made me forget the past week’s chaos.

I lined up my shot on the third hole, feeling the familiar weight of the club in my hands. The ball sailed through the air in a perfect arc, landing just shy of the green.

“Not bad,” Anthony said, leaning on his club. “But watch this.”

His swing was too aggressive, sending the ball veering right into a sand trap. I couldn’t help but smirk.

“Shut up,” he muttered before I could say anything.

“I didn’t say a word.”

“Your face said plenty.” He grimaced, watching his ball’s unfortunate resting place. “Damn it.”

I chuckled, climbing into the golf cart. “Maybe stick to medicine. Your patients can’t run away when you butcher them.”

The course stretched before us, immaculate green against the Manhattan skyline. As