I stopped struggling and just closed my eyes in despair. The hot tears clinging to my eyelashes fell onto his arm, but he didn't even flinch.
He let me get into the car, and the engine roared as we sped towards the hospital.
The car was going incredibly fast, and the ride was so bumpy that my already frail body couldn't handle it. My stomach churned, and I could no longer suppress the metallic taste in my throat.
As soon as the car stopped, he carried me towards the blood-drawing room. Suddenly, I turned my head and vomited a mouthful of blood, which splattered onto his expensive suit trousers, as glaring as a blooming red plum blossom.
He paused, glanced down at the bloodstain, then raised his hand and gently wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with his fingertips, his movements incredibly gentle.
But the next second, he turned around, slammed me hard onto the cold chair, and coldly swept his eyes over the doctor who had rushed over after hearing the commotion. In an unquestionable tone, he said, "Hurry up and get ready. She's perfectly healthy. It doesn't matter how much you take."