Isaac was left dumbfounded for a moment, but he quickly and gently patted Irene's back. "You're drunk. Be good now, and don't say such silly things. I'm carrying you inside."
"No…"
Even so, Irene was holding onto his waist relentlessly while keeping her face buried in his chest. "You don't get it."
Isaac lowered his gaze at her and asked, "What don't I get?"
"I'm afraid to tell you," she rasped.
Isaac turned to Eagle right then, "Go in for now!"
"Yes, sir," Eagle said, and turned to head inside.
"It hurts." Irene, meanwhile, was tightening her hands around his waist.
"Do you want to vomit?" Isaac asked mildly.
Irene shook her head, still leaning against him. "My heart hurts."
Isaac sharply noticed that there was something weighing on her mind, and he asked softly, "Why?"
That was when she suddenly looked up, staring him straight in the eye.
"Bleurgh."
Her stomach was churning.
As he was unable to carry her out in time, she vomited all over Isaac.
The stench…
Isaac put a palm over his face.
Why would he waste time with her rubbish? He should have carried her out of the car immediately instead of getting puke on himself!
Taking off his jacket and wiping himself a little, he then threw it on the ground and carried Irene out of the car.
He called the chauffeur to clean the car. "And throw that jacket away."
The acidic stench of vomit, mixed with the odor of alcohol, was traumatizing.
Even after they got inside, Irene was retching again.
"Bleugh…"
Isaac quickly carried her to the washroom, while Sheryl appeared with her grandson in her arms.
Seeing that Irene had to be carried and smelled of alcohol, Sheryl frowned. "She was drinking?"
"Yeah," Isaac replied.
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