She yelled at me in exasperation, “Bitch, don't be shameless. A lot of people can't enjoy Mr. Davis' wine.”
“Go ahead and hold her down. The one who dares to refuse me has not yet been born!” Jonathan's voice was as cold as ice, with a sense of oppression that could not be denied.
As I was about to leave, I was kicked in the knee by the man Jonathan brought with him.
With a thud, I slumped down in front of the two men.
The sharp pain made my face pale, and cold sweat continued to drip downwards from my forehead.
The dignity I was so proud of was now being stepped on by my most beloved man.
The sadness in the bottom of my heart could no longer be suppressed as it surged upwards.
The woman ripped off my mask and plunged her long nails into my skin in retaliation.
I frowned in pain and struggled desperately.
She stopped Jonathan's view and poured a full glass of wine into my mouth as if she was venting her anger.
I drank it so quickly that I choked on it and blushed all over my face. I couldn't help but slump to the ground and cough, curling up into a ball in pain.
I was allergic to alcohol, and even a little bit could make me choke.