A lead to his Cat

Xavier's silhouette stretched thin and foreboding across the soft carpet of his study as he made his way in, the weight of the night's revelations weighing heavily on him. Like a predator, he moved towards the decanter, its amber contents glinting in the dim lighting, pouring himself a generous amount of whiskey with graceful ease. The crystal glass chilled his lips, while the heat of the drink burned fiercely down his throat—an intense contrast to the numbness that had settled into his mind.

A mirthless chuckle, rough and guttural, escaped him, sounding more like a growl than a laugh. Life, with its twisted sense of humor, had dealt him a hand that he couldn't even begin to remember being dealt before. An accusation so foul, from a woman whose face remained a blur, gnawed at his insides like a relentless parasite. He took another sip of his drink, the amber liquid burning down his throat as he fought off the urge to hurl the glass and watch it shatter into a million sharp fragments o