Chapter 259
Yet Veronica never truly let things settle.
Every few days, she would find a new angle, a new excuse, a new way to provoke Winnie. Small traps disguised as workplace issues. Complaints dressed up as “customer dissatisfaction.”
Within a few months, Winnie had already accumulated multiple formal reports—all tied, directly or indirectly, to Veronica.
Each one quietly chipped away at her evaluation record.
And that was exactly the point.
Winnie stood still, her gaze locked on Lindsay.
“I can agree to your terms,” she said slowly.
Her voice was steady, but every word felt weighed down, as if dragged through something humiliating before being spoken aloud.
“But how can you guarantee,” she continued, “that after I finish this, you won’t continue making things difficult for me?”
Lindsay smiled faintly.
That was the expression she had been waiting for.
Not defiance.
Not anger.
But forced compromise.
The kind that bent without breaking—yet.
She reached over without asking and took Winnie’s phone.
Before Winnie could react, Lindsay opened the camera and pressed record.
She adjusted her expression instantly—soft, composed, almost generous.
“I’m very satisfied with Winnie’s service,” she said clearly into the camera. “It’s my birthday today, and she even accompanied me in drinking. I will personally give her a positive review.”
A pause.
Then a sweet smile.
“Thank you for your service.”
She stopped recording.
Casually placed the phone back on the table beside Winnie.
As if nothing had happened.
Winnie stared at the open bottle.
Her fingers tightened.
“Hurry up,” Lindsay said, glancing at the time. “I’m tired. If you don’t finish it in five minutes, the agreement is off.”
A thin silence settled.
Winnie’s jaw tightened.
Then she picked up the bottle.
Tilting her head back, she began to drink.
Cold liquor burned down her throat instantly.
Sharp.
Violent.
Her body reacted immediately.
“Wait—what are you doing?!”
The bottle was suddenly ripped from her hands and thrown aside.
Glass clattered somewhere across the room.
“Michael!”
Lindsay’s voice cracked with shock.
The doors had already been forced open.
Michael stood there.
Breathing hard.
Several servants followed behind him in a panic, clearly caught off guard.
“What is going on here?!” Lindsay snapped, turning on them immediately. “Do you all want to lose your jobs? Someone walks in, and you don’t even report it?”
“It wasn’t like that…” one servant stammered. “Mr. Morrison forced his way in—”
Earlier, Michael had left the party briefly, only to realize he had forgotten a gift in the car.
On his way back, he had overheard fragmented conversations—Lindsay being upset, a bottle of expensive liquor being brought upstairs, a delivery involving the store manager.
Something about the tone had been wrong.
Off.
And that feeling had only grown heavier with every step.
So he came in without waiting.
And what he saw—
Was Winnie drinking?
Forcing herself to swallow alcohol like it meant nothing.
He didn’t think.
He moved.
Now Winnie was coughing violently, her body shaking as the liquor hit her system. She bent forward and coughed hard—
And vomited directly onto Michael.
The room froze.
His expensive shirt was ruined instantly.
But Michael didn’t step back.
Instead, he caught her from behind, steadying her as her strength faltered.
“Why are you drinking this?” His voice dropped sharply. “You’re allergic to alcohol. Are you trying to kill yourself?”
“Cough… Michael… mind your own business…”
Winnie tried to push him away the moment she recognized him.
Her voice was hoarse, weak—but still defiant.
But Michael didn’t let go.
His arm stayed firm around her.
Then he lifted his head.
And looked at Lindsay.
The air shifted instantly.
Lindsay straightened, regaining her composure with effort.
“Michael,” she said coldly, “what exactly do you think you’re doing? Have you forgotten I’m your fiancée?”
Michael didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, his voice came out low—controlled, but sharp underneath.
“Why were you forcing her to drink?”
A pause.
“I’ve already explained,” he continued. “There’s nothing between me and me. She didn’t provoke anyone today. I made that clear.”
His gaze hardened.
“So why did you go behind my back and do this?”
Winnie blinked faintly at his words.
Surprised.
Lindsay gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Nothing between you two?” she repeated. “Then explain this.”
Her voice rose.
“I’m your fiancée. At my birthday party, in front of everyone, you protected her. You defended her. And now—right here—you’re holding her like this, worrying about her, and questioning me because of her?”
She stepped forward slightly.
“Michael, do you hear yourself?”
The silence after her words was suffocating.
Winnie felt Michael’s throat move.
A subtle swallow.
His jaw tightened.
The veins at his temple faintly surfaced.
He didn’t look at Lindsay.
Didn’t look away from Winnie either.
He just stood there—caught between restraint and something far more dangerous he was refusing to let out.
And Winnie knew that expression.
Too well.
It wasn’t calm.
It was control on the edge of breaking.