Chapter 4
Guests arrived soon after. At the banquet, the Eternal Heart around Lena’s neck became a silent proclamation, sparking whispers among the crowd-
“Wendy’s birthday, but the heirloom is on Miss Caldwell. What does that mean?”
“That wine seller only got lucky because she resembles Miss Caldwell. Now Mr. Caldwell is bored with her.”
“The real deal is back–no more good days for the fake!”
Wendy bit her lip, nails digging into her palms.
Ethan stood nearby, clearly hearing every cruel word.
In the past, anyone speaking ill of Wendy would face bloodshed or even family ruin. Now he acted deaf, his gaze never leaving Lena.
As if they were stating facts.
༴ ཇ ཇ ཛ བ ཆ ཇ ད
A guest smiled and offered Lena a toast, “Miss Caldwell, would you do me the honor?”
Before Lena could reach out, Ethan stepped in, forcefully pushing the glass away, “Lena is pregnant. She can’t drink.”
The crowd froze, then erupted into more whispers. The guest quickly apologized with a smile,
“My mistake. Congratulations, Mr. Caldwell! Congratulations, Miss Caldwell!“‘
Amidst the flattery, Lena petulantly shoved Ethan aside, “I didn’t plan to keep this baby anyway. Why can’t I drink? Don’t spoil the mood!”
Ethan’s face darkened. He snatched the glass and thrust it into Wendy’s hand without a second glance, “You drink it for Lena.”
Wendy stiffened, as if doused from head to toe by a bucket of ice water.
The scene felt eerily familiar yet unbearably ironic.
She remembered being forced to drink at her old job selling alcohol–her body breaking out in hives, breath growing ragged from the allergic reaction.
Ethan had arrived like a madman, beating those responsible into severe injury and smashing the venue to pieces.
He’d held her nearly–shocked body, tears of agony falling, “As long as I’m here, anyone who makes you touch a drop of alcohol dies.”
Those scorching tears felt like yesterday, but now he was forcing her–allergic to alcohol–to drink for Lena.
Seeing her hesitation, Ethan frowned impatiently. “What’s wrong? Weren’t you a heavy drinker back when you sold wine? Now playing the saint?” He added, “Don’t forget all I sacrificed to marry you. Is one glass for Lena too much to ask?” His words landed like slaps across her face.
Flattering guests immediately joined in ☛
“Here, let me help Mrs. Caldwell–wait, Miss Winslow!”
Laughing, they grabbed her wrists, pinched her chin, and shoved the glass against her lips.
“Mmph… no!” The harsh liquid choked down her throat, soaking her dress and exposing her chest. She coughed violently, struggling to breathe. But this was just the start.
“One glass? Is that al! Miss Caldwell’s worth?” Sensing Ethan’s indifference, the crowd grew bolder, even placing bets-
“100k says three more glasses and she’ll collapse!”
“Mr. Caldwell said she used to sell wine–she can handle ten! 200k on ten!”
Like vultures circling a carcass, more glasses pressed in, trapping her. Within moments, hives erupted across her skin, itching unbearably. “Help me…”
she croaked toward Ethan.
He stood nearby, arms wrapped around Lena. “Still mad, baby?” His fingers brushed her pouting lips. “Your mouth is sticking out like a duckling—so cute.” Not once did he spare Wendy a glance.
Watching them, Wendy’s heart felt crushed in a vice. After the searing pain came only icy emptiness. She smiled hollowly. Ethan, what am I to you? You truly have no heart…
When another glass was forced on her, she didn’t resist. Instead, she pulled out the second pill, downing it with the alcohol.
As onlookers gaped or jeered, her vision went black and she collapsed onto the cold floor.
“She fainted!”
