Priscilla dashed toward Maxton the moment she saw him, tears streaming as she buried herself in his arms, disregarding my presence entirely.
I was on the verge of losing control when a voice rang out from the table, dripping with mockery. "Priscilla has been completely pampered by Maxton. She won’t even share a glass of wine with us. Is it because Maxton loves her more than we do?"
Maxton immediately shielded Priscilla, his movements tender as he wiped away her tears and murmured reassuringly, "Don’t worry. I’ll handle the rest of the drinks for you."
With that, he turned to me. Without warning, he shoved me hard, his strength unrelenting. I staggered toward the table, barely keeping my balance.
The sharp ache in my lower abdomen flared as I collided with the edge of the table, sending wine bottles crashing to the ground. My body, still fragile from the recent procedure, struggled to bear the brunt of the blow.
"Priscilla isn’t feeling well," Maxton said coldly, his voice cutting through my pain. "Drink the rest for her."