Chapter 3

Kylie stumbled forward, her high heels twisting awkwardly as her ankle gave way. She crashed to the ground, falling to her knees with a loud "thud".

A sharp pain shot through her knees. Instinctively, she reached out to steady herself, her palms pressing against the cold floor. Her hair, which had been carefully styled, now spilled messily around her face, blocking her view.

At that moment, her forehead was less than five inches from Jonathan's custom Italian leather shoes.

The woman in Jonathan's lap let out a high-pitched scream, her hands clutching at him as she flung herself into his chest.

"Mr. Sinclair! That scared me!"

However, Jonathan remained calm and unbothered. He raised one foot, gently pressing the toe of his shoe under Kylie's chin, lifting her face to meet his. His gaze was sharp, his words dripping with disdain.

"Is this how you apologize?"

Jonathan had always been aloof, never one to stoop to such levels with others. It was clear he was still angry.

Samuel could tell, and he couldn't help but scoff. "Was it you? You're the one who dared to hurt Mr. Sinclair?"

With that, Samuel stepped forward, raising his hand and patting Kylie lightly on the cheek.

Kylie took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before speaking in a soft voice. "Mr. Sinclair, I'm sorry for offending you earlier. I truly apologize."

Samuel sneered, then grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the table, opening it with a flourish before holding it up to Kylie's lips.

"An apology requires sincerity, doesn't it?"

Kylie hesitated, glancing down at the bottle before her. She slowly took it from him, and still kneeling, she poured whiskey into Jonathan's glass.

Once again, she softly said, "Mr. Sinclair, I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

Jonathan eyed the glass in his hand, swirling the liquid slowly. After a moment, he raised his hand and poured the entire contents over Kylie's head.

The cold liquid soaked through her hair, trickling down her scalp, flowing down her neck, and dripping into her blouse.

"Drink the whole bottle," Jonathan's cold voice echoed above her.

Kylie hadn't expected him to be so harsh. Fear tightened in her chest, but she knew that refusing him would only make things worse.

She looked up at him, pleading silently with her eyes, hoping for mercy.

But Jonathan showed no signs of yielding. His eyes were as cold as his tone, his focus unwavering as he shook his glass.

The woman sitting on Jonathan's lap was a rising star, and she looked increasingly irritated. Tonight had been her chance to climb the social ladder, and she had already made herself comfortable in Jonathan's lap. But this interruption had completely ruined her moment.

Without a word, she stood up and slapped Kylie across the face, her voice sharp as she commanded, "Asking you to drink was a courtesy. Don't push your luck!"

Jonathan's hand trembled slightly around his glass, and a flicker of something that could almost be mistaken for regret surged in his chest.

Kylie's face was burning from the slap, and she had no choice but to comply. She lifted the bottle with respect, holding it to her lips as she drank deeply, tilting her head back. The smooth curve of her neck was visible as she swallowed, the movement subtle but alluring. The faint marks Jonathan had left on her skin earlier seemed to glow under the light.

The sharp sting of the whiskey hit Kylie hard, leaving her feeling nauseous. She swallowed it down, fighting the urge to gag. Then, in a hoarse voice, she said again, "Mr. Sinclair, please forgive me."

Jonathan remained silent, his expression cold and unreadable.

Kylie had been with him for three years without ever questioning him. She had never dared to oppose him. Jonathan hadn't anticipated that she would actually hurt him today.

He simply wanted to teach her a lesson and make sure she remembered who held the power.

The dim, flickering lights cast an almost seductive glow on Kylie's skin, her chest rising and falling with each breath, the curve of her body impossible to ignore.

She was undeniably beautiful, a perfect vision of temptation.

Samuel couldn't help but swallow, feeling a twinge of sympathy. He turned to Jonathan, his voice softer than before.

"Bro, this girl's probably new. She doesn't know the rules. A little lesson should be enough, right? It's my birthday, after all. Look, the cake still isn't cut. Let's not let this spoil the mood."

He glanced at Jonathan, waiting for a response.

Jonathan remained silent, giving no objection, which seemed like a silent agreement to Samuel's words.

"Why don't you quickly thank Mr. Sinclair? He won't hold today's incident against you," Samuel said to Kylie.

Kylie lowered her gaze, her long lashes shadowing her face, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you, Mr. Sinclair. Thank you, Mr. Quinton."

The woman still draped over Jonathan's lap rolled her eyes and impatiently said, "Hurry up and get lost."

Kylie rose, her knees already bruised from the prolonged kneeling. With her head bowed, she quickly exited the room.