Tyrant's Secret Baby
Every glass was a punishment for my own stupidity over the years.
“Miss, you’ve had too much,” a baritone voice spoke beside me.
I turned my head, my watery eyes catching sight of a man who seemed unreal. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing a luxurious watch glinting under the bar’s dim lights. He looked far too refined to be a bartender.
“Everyone abandoned me today,” I slurred, grabbing his collar. “My family, my fiancé… they said I’m a bastard. Am I really that bad?”