As I stood there, trembling and unsteady, a drunken man with a glass in hand approached, his grin leering. "Well, if Priscilla won’t drink, why don’t you keep us company instead?"
Clutching my aching lower belly, I fixed my gaze on Maxton, who was busy comforting Priscilla. My voice trembled with restrained fury as I reminded him, "You know perfectly well that I just had surgery."
Even as the words escaped my lips, a drunken man lunged toward me. Without hesitation, I shoved him away, the anger bubbling within me, fueling my strength.
When I refused, Maxton's face twisted with disgust. "Still pretending? Three years ago, when you had a stomach bleed, you downed two bottles like it was nothing. Do you really think I'll believe you now?"
The sarcasm in his voice ignited the simmering anger buried deep within me. I yanked free from the drunken man’s grip, fury blinding me as I marched up to Maxton. Without a second thought, I slapped him with all the strength I could muster and turned to leave.