Chapter 51 Bottom of the Bottle
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Next to the beer–bellied man sat a sultry woman swirling a ss of red wine, her eyes locked on Charles with yful malice.
Her gaze was thick with temptation, coiling around him like a snake. Her heavy makeup only made her sharp features more aggressive–eyes that could slice through bone.
For some reason he couldn’t exin, Tess’s soft, clear face suddenly filled Charles‘ mind.
A strange tenderness welled up inside him.
Then, just as quickly, the memory shifted–he was back in that tense standoff with Finn. He could still see the fury in his former boss’s eyes, like he wanted to tear him apart. And yet, beneath the guilt, there was a flicker of smug satisfaction.
Without another thought, Charles/threw his head back and downed the shot in front of him. The liquor scorched all the way down, a sharp, burning pain crawling through his chest. And in that moment–he just wanted to go home.
As soon as he finished the first drink, another ss was poured and slid in front of him.
Charles gave <i>a </i>crooked smile, his eyes sharp and emotionless. “You messing with me now?”
“I’ll mess with whoever the hell I want. What’re you gonna do about it?” the man sneered, lifting his own drink and letting it drip slowly onto Charles’s expensive suit, drop by drop.
Then, like a twisted party trick, ten more shots were lined up in front of him–one after another.
“Tonight, you finish everyst one,” the man dered. “Or don’t even think about walking out
of here.”
Every eye in the room zeroed in on Charles. Each look was bold, mocking–pure bullying. They didn’t just want him to drink. They wanted to see the once–proud golden boy break.
Charles met the beer belly guy and the seductive woman’s eyes with a cold, unflinching stare.
For a moment, both of them tensed.
This wasn’t just any attorney–they all knew he’d handled high–stakes cases. Rumor had it he was once the right–hand man of that infamous exec before he went to prison.
They exchanged nces, a flicker of hesitation between them.
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Chapter 51 Bottom of the Bottle
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But then they reminded themselves–he’d burned his bridges with Lock Group. And in a ce like Aetheris, that meant not just being cklisted in the legal world… but in the whole damn city.
Their confidence came rushing back, and they straightened up.
“Mr. Jackman, word is you still owe Lock Group a big chunk of that settlement,” the man said, holding up one finger. “Show some sincerity tonight, and we might be willing to chip in this much. Sound fair?”
“But if not … ” he narrowed his eyes, his voice turning cold. “We’ve got no problem being thest nail in your firm’s coffin.”
The woman joined in smoothly, voice sweet as sugar but sharp underneath. “We’ve always admired your skills, Mr. Jackman–especially Mr. Harold. He really appreciates talent. Would’ve been happy to lend a hand. But you turning your nose up at us like this? That’s just disappointing.”
Shezily swirled the champagne in her ss, eyes glinting with amusement.
Charles’sshes twitched, and a shadow fell across his face.
Then, under the smug, expectant gazes around him, his long fingers wrapped around a shot ss, and he downed it in one go.
The burn hit hard, tightening his throat. It was so sharp he nearly choked, eyes stinging with the urge to tear up.
He was never good with alcohol. Or maybe, he just never wanted to lose himself in the haze it brought.
Back when he first started out, Tess had been his boss. No one dared push him to drink out of line. Not when she had introduced him with a casual, “This is my little brother.” Back then, they only toasted him out of respect for her.
But after Tess went to prison, the way they looked at him changed.
To hold his ground against Nadine, Charles reinvented himself–rising through the ranks to be Lock Group’s second–most trusted attorney after her, Always second, never first. But still, people bowed their heads when they needed something. No one dared mess with him then.
He downed another shot. Immediately, a manicured hand with blood–red nails slid the next ss toward him.
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Chapter 51 Bottom of the Bottle
Charles looked up. The woman raised a brow at him with a sly smile. “Come on, Mr. Jackman. Show us a little more sincerity.”
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Her breath was sweet, almost floral. But to him, it coiled like a python around his neck.
Under the flickering, chaotic lights of the bar, the table in front of him was covered in rows of liquor–filled sses, like a silent dare.
Everyone around the table froze. One by one, they set down their own drinks, all eyes fixed on Charles<b>. </b>
Laughter and snide remarks buzzed in his ears, but he was numb to it now. His body on autopilot, downing shot after shot until his stomach felt like it was lit on fire.<fnb7f9> Th?s chapter is updated by fι?dnοvel</fnb7f9>
He doubled over slightly, hand pressing hard against his abdomen.
“Didn’t he always say he was allergic to alcohol? Looks fine to me,” someone snorted.
“Yeah, turns out he just didn’t want to drink with us. Funny how fast that pride disappears when you’ve got nothing left, huh? Now he’s just another washed–up suit doing shots for favors from Mr. Harold and Florence.”
The beer–bellied man, the one the woman had called “Mr. Harold,” was practically giddy. His eyes sparkled with petty satisfaction, the thrill of revenge washing over him. His name as Peter Harold.
He had his phone out early, already recording the whole thing–Charles being pressured, humiliated, forced to drink.
At the same time, Tess, scrolling through a legal industry group chat, caught a video that made her heart stop.
Her expression darkened instantly.
Using the location tagged in the post, she rushed over without hesitation.
“Mr. Jackman’s drunk already? Come on, just one more…
From outside the private room, she could already hear the woman’s seductive voice drifting through the door.
Tess didn’t think twice. She shoved the door open.
Inside, she saw Charles slumped over on the couch,pletely spent. His face was ghost- pale.
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Chapter 51 Bottom of the Bottle
His eyes were closed. He looked like he was unconscious.
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One hand was clutched tightly over his side, and every few seconds, a low, stifled groan of pain slipped from his lips.
Tess’s fingers curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms.
<i>These </i><i>bastards</i><i>. </i>
The lighting in the room was dim–no one got a good look at her face.
“Charles, hang in there,” she whispered, crouching beside him.
As she tried to lift him up, her eyes caught sight of a thick stack of cash sitting right in front of him on the table.