At this moment, he looked debauched and unrestrained with a hint of drunkenness, as well as chillingly cold.
Emma Benson didn't speak, staring at him for a long time before finally saying, "Stop drinking..."
His stomach, which he had hardly managed to settle, how could it withstand such torment? Did he not care for his own body at all?!
Hearing her words, the man narrowed his eyes, his pupils bloodthirsty.
"Get out!" he hissed coldly, grabbing a bottle of red wine, ready to continue drinking.
Emma, without a second thought, rushed forward to snatch the wine bottle from his hand, her small face stern, "Walter, stop drinking! If you keep drinking, you'll really drink yourself to death!"
The man's handsome face became even colder, his hand fiercely gripping her wrist, his lips curling coldly, "Who do you think you are? What right do you have to control me!"
