Thor drove through the city streets, his mind in turmoil. His phone vibrated insistently on the passenger seat. He saw the name My Life flash across the screen — Celina — and declined the call without hesitation.

Back at the penthouse, Celina sat on the couch, tears brimming in her eyes as she stared at the phone.

“You can keep refusing,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “I’m going to keep calling until you pick up.”

Determined, she called again. And again. Three more times. Thor declined them all.

“Not now, love…” he muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. “Not until I calm down. I’m not going to be that Thor again.”

Minutes later, Thor was standing at Arthur’s mansion, pressing the doorbell repeatedly. The housekeeper opened the door, startled, but before she could say anything, Thor stepped inside.

“Where’s Arthur?” he demanded.

Arthur appeared in the living room, half-asleep, wearing nothing but his boxers, rubbing his eyes.

“What the he