Chapter 22

As soon as Tate finished speaking, Catherine pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Without hesitation, she lifted the bottle that contained the mixed alcohol and began downing it. The fiery burn of the alcohol seared her throat as it traveled down, scorching her stomach. At that point, she couldn't distinguish between the different types of liquor, how expensive they were, or whether they tasted good. Her mind was consumed with only one thought—drink it all, get Raphael, and go home. Of course, she was aware that it was all part of a scheme. Catherine seemed oblivious to everything around her as she guzzled down the alcohol. The brown liquid trickled down her pale face, soaking into her collar. It felt cold against her skin. Tate, who had been eyeing her hungrily from the start, didn't bother hiding his perverted intentions. It was clear that he already had a plan for what would come next. Meanwhile, the alcohol churned violently in Catherine's stomach. Her hands trembled a