Chapter 4
The moment Sadie heard her being told to drink, he panicked.
“No way, Eliza isn’t feeling well. She can’t drink.”
He still remembered too clearly the night of Eliza’s alcohol poisoning, when he had accompanied her to a business dinner.
The whole ordeal had left him with a deep psychological scar.
The doctor had even said that if they’d been any later, her life might not have been saved.
Gideon didn’t like what he heard. “You underestimate Eliza. Who doesn’t know she’s famous for her drinking? Didn’t she and Calvin go north to negotiate that deal? Twenty people at the table, two full rounds, and she was fine. And now she can’t handle three drinks? Playing favorites, are we? Or is she just refusing to give face to my sister Medea?”
Medea didn’t want the atmosphere to stiffen. She tried to smooth things over.
“Gideon, she’s still a girl. Don’t push her.”
But Gideon bristled. “How am I pushing her?”
Then he turned to Calvin. “Calvin, am I pushing her?”
Calvin lifted his eyes, his glance brushing Eliza’s face, his lips tugging with cold indifference. “No.”
With that endorsement, Gideon only grew more brazen.
“See? Calvin says it’s fine. Medea, you’re too soft–hearted unlike Eliza. She’s a seasoned player in the business world, always calculating what benefits her most.”
Faced with his taunts, Eliza didn’t argue back. She only fixed her eyes on Calvin.
As if searching desperately for something in his gaze.
Waiting for him to speak up for her, even just a perfunctory, that’s enough, don’t push it.
It was like a last struggle before despair.
But Calvin never spoke.
And in his eyes, there was only coldness.
In that moment, Eliza understood.
It was as if someone had doused her from behind with a bucket of ice water, snuffing out the last fragile hope inside her.
Her expression wavered into a faint, dazed smile. She bent down, lifted a glass from the table, and said calmly, “It’s my fault for not knowing the rules. I’ll drink.”
Once, she had learned plenty of tricks for handling alcohol at business dinners, lining her stomach beforehand, drinking milk or yogurt, sipping slowly.
Those tricks had made her nearly unbeatable at the table.
But tonight, she used none of them.
She only poured herself down with liquor.
One glass.
Two.
Three.
The baijiu burned her nose and throat, made her stomach spasm in sharp pain.
Yet she only raised her empty glass toward Calvin with a casual smile.
“Finished. May I leave now, President Young?”
Eliza didn’t wait to see if he nodded.
She turned and left the room.
Her stomach churned so violently she was afraid she’d vomit right there.
She barely made it to the restroom before collapsing over the sink, retching until the world spun.
A twisted sort of relief crossed her mind, thank heaven she’d taken stomach medicine earlier and not antibiotics.
No one was born with a tolerance for alcohol.
Before joining Everest, Eliza hadn’t touched a drop.
Her first time drinking had been for Calvin. A tough client had insisted he drink to show sincerity.
But Calvin was allergic and he couldn’t touch alcohol.
So Eliza had stepped forward in his place.
One glass down, she had nearly choked.
But the thought that it was a hard–won opportunity for Calvin gave her the grit to swallow it down.
That had been the first project she won for him.

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