Agnes' eyes sparkled with joy, and she immediately urged. "Well, aren't you going to toast Mr. Walker? We should thank him for his generosity."
I looked at her expressionlessly. "Are you sure you want me to drink?"
Milan taunted. "What's a grown man whining about a little alcohol for? Come on!"
With that, he lifted his glass and downed it in one gulp.
Agnes' face darkened, and she leaned in close, whispering harshly in my ear, "You want a divorce, don't you? Fine, drink this, and I'll divorce you. Don't drink, and you can sue for divorce—I'll drag it out for a year or more if I have to."
After hearing that, what was there left to misunderstand?
If she didn't want an amicable parting, then she couldn't blame me for resorting to tricks.
Smiling, I took the glass. "Alright, here's to all of you, thank you for your care."
Seeing me finish the drink, Agnes finally looked satisfied and averted her gaze.
But within ten minutes, my face went pale, and I collapsed to the floor, looking extremely unwell.
Mr. Walker panicked, almost jumping out of his seat. "What's going on?! Call an ambulance, now!"