Chapter 5

Vivian's POV

I looked at Mr. Warren clutching his bleeding head. He was completely dazed.

But he was shrewd enough to survive in this circle. Even though he was in excruciating pain, he didn't dare curse at Damien.

He just stared fearfully at the man still holding half a bottle, his voice trembling.

"D-Damien, didn't you say... I could do whatever I wanted..."

"Yes, I did say that."

Damien dropped the glass fragments and accepted a handkerchief from a bodyguard, methodically wiping his fingertips that hadn't even gotten dirty.

He even smiled slightly, his tone as gentle as chatting with an old friend.

"But I didn't say you could break my property."

He walked up to Mr. Warren and looked down at that greasy face.

"The Lancaster family spent a fortune packaging her. You made her cry. How should we settle this account?"

Mr. Warren's face turned ashen.

I could see he understood.

"I'll pay! I'll compensate! Damien, please spare me..."

Damien didn't look at him again. He simply waved his hand lightly.

Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward and silently dragged the still-pleading Mr. Warren out.

Mr. Warren struggled and screamed.

The private room fell silent.

Damien turned around, his gaze falling on me.

I huddled miserably in the corner, disheveled and trembling all over.

He walked over and reached for the ashtray in my hand.

I instinctively flinched.

"What? Going to hit me too?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"That was a decent fight just now. Shows some Lancaster ruthlessness."

"But have you gotten one thing wrong?"

He forcibly pried open my fingers and threw the ashtray into the trash.

He reached out to smooth my disheveled hair. His movements were gentle yet carried a careless cruelty.

His fingertips were ice cold, sliding across my collarbone, causing a shiver.

"My possessions-only I can discipline them.

"When others touch them even once, they pay a price.

"But that doesn't mean you can resist me."

He chuckled softly, his fingertip brushing the corner of my mouth that was still bleeding.

"Besides me, who else would treasure you like this?"

Seeing me bite my lip without speaking, the smile in his eyes faded a bit.

He glanced at the hard liquor on the table, his tone eerie.

"Drink all of these, and I'll forgive your ignorance today."

"Remember, every sip you drink, every penny you spend, belongs to the Lancaster family."

"If you want to leave, settle this account first."

I looked at him.

He sat on the sofa, watching me leisurely. Serena nestled in his arms, also watching me quietly with amusement in her eyes.

He was serious.

Unless I was dead, I couldn't walk out that door.

"Fine."

Without hesitation, I grabbed a bottle and tilted my head back to pour it down my throat.

The first bottle.

The second bottle.

The harsh liquid burned my esophagus. My stomach churned violently.

I rushed to the bathroom and vomited until I was dizzy. Bile mixed with blood streaks poured out.

But I wiped my mouth, supported myself against the wall, walked back out, and picked up the third bottle.

Damien sat there the whole time. Through the smoke, his expression was dark and unreadable.

Until I picked up the fifth bottle. My hands shook so badly I couldn't hold it. Liquor spilled all over me.

Crash.

I couldn't hold the bottle. It fell to the floor and shattered.

I knelt on the ground, trying to pick up the glass shards still dripping with liquor, wanting to clean them up.

A shoe stepped on my hand.

Damien looked down at me, not a trace of anger on his face. His voice maintained that suffocating calm.

"Vivian, you'll be a Lancaster family asset for the rest of your life."

He crouched down to look at me, his eyes a barren wasteland of indifference.

"If you drink yourself to death, what will you use to pay your debt?"

"Someone, take her back."

He stood up, his tone light. "If she dies here, the children won't have a mother anymore."

At the mention of the children, I stiffened.

He looked with satisfaction at the fear in my eyes and stood up.

"Take her back."

He turned and walked out, his back straight and cold.

"If she's not dead, keep her locked up."

"When she's healed, we'll settle accounts slowly."