On seeing this, Dominic frowned and said impatiently, “Go to the bathroom and clean up. Don’t embarrass me here.”
I ran to the bathroom like I was escaping, vomiting for a long time before I recovered. When I returned, the party had already ended.
Dominic was leaning back on the sofa, reeking of alcohol. I didn’t dare ask any more questions, so I just followed him into the car.
The driver suddenly exclaimed, “Mr. Andrews, have you been drinking? You’re severely allergic to alcohol, haven’t you? You almost had an accident last time!”
Dominic closed his eyes and said weakly, “It’s okay, I won’t die.”
I sat in the back seat, feeling a mixture of emotions. Seeing him in pain, I felt bad.
Back at the Andrews Family’s house, I sneaked into the kitchen, found some rice and slowly cooked a small bowl of porridge.
When I knocked on his door, carrying the porridge, Dominic’s face remained grim. He saw the porridge in my hand and wanted to scold me for meddling.
But as soon as he opened his mouth, a knot in his stomach twisted. He could only shut his mouth coldly.
I placed the porridge on the bedside table and whispered, “Drinking some porridge will make you feel better.”