"President, Miss Alison, shows signs of food poisoning. Though we’ve stabilized her for now, we need to know exactly what the lady put in the food to prescribe the correct treatment…"
Blake shot me a vicious glare. "Speak! What exactly did you do?"
I truly didn’t know what to confess. "This has nothing to do with me."
Blake sneered coldly and shoved me in front of the doctor. Then, he grabbed a bottle of alcohol and poured it over me.
The exposed burns on the backs of my hands flared with sharp, stabbing pain, like countless needles digging in. I gasped and nearly fainted.
But he wasn’t finished, his cold, hard shoe sole pressed down on my wounded hand.
The doctor, seeing the situation spiral out of control, couldn’t help but step in to persuade him. "President Jennings, Madam just got out of the hospital. If the wound gets infected, it could be life-threatening..."
But Blake remained indifferent and said coldly, "If you don't tell the truth, you won't be needing these hands anymore!"
I slowly lifted my head to look at him. "Do as you wish."
The moment the words left my mouth, I saw the storm rise in Blake’s eyes.
Without mercy, his foot crushed down on my wounded hands.
Darkness swallowed my vision and I passed out completely.
When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying in the guest room, my hands tightly bandaged.
Blake entered with a nurse, preparing to change my dressings.
The pain from the torn wounds made me gasp involuntarily, but I gritted my teeth and stayed silent.
Before losing consciousness, I had overheard the doctor say they had received Alison’s lab results; she had been suffering from gastric spasms from overeating.
"This time, it had nothing to do with you. I was too impulsive..."
"Does it hurt a lot?"
A flicker of guilt flashed across Blake’s eyes as he reached out, wanting to bandage me himself.
I turned away coldly. "No need."
Blake frowned, visibly displeased, his outstretched hand awkwardly retracting.
"Delilah, I've already lowered myself this much; what are you still angry about?"
Looking at the man before me, I couldn’t help but find it funny. He was always like this.
Even when he did something wrong, I was expected to forgive him unconditionally, without the slightest resentment.
Otherwise, it was ignorance.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I nudged my chin toward the person behind him.