Sabrina's POV
“All the expenses at home come from your hard work,” I said coldly. “So, now that you’ve been promoted to general manager, I’ll support you even better. Don’t worry.”
Seeing how “understanding” I was, Tyrone beamed with excitement.
I played along, letting my lips curve upward in a cooperative smile. Then, I picked up the outfit and headed to the master bedroom.
In the dimly lit room, I noticed the pink mood lighting Tyrone had bought ages ago but never used. I couldn’t help but feel the irony as I prepared myself for what was about to happen.
“Wow, Tyrone, I didn’t expect your wife to be so stunning,” Mr. Allen said, his sharp suit perfectly tailored as he stood in the doorway.
His greedy gaze swept over me, lingering on my legs wrapped in sheer black stockings. The longer he stared, the wider his smile grew.
“Oh, come on, boss, cut with the joke,” Tyrone laughed, quickly getting up to usher me to the seat right next to Mr. Allen. His gesture was deliberate, his intentions painfully clear.
“Sweetheart, go ahead and serve our most important benefactor,” Tyrone said with a pointed look.
I swallowed the wave of disgust rising inside me and picked up the serving chopsticks.
But as I reached forward to serve, Mr. Allen’s large, rough hand suddenly extended, brushing against me—no, grabbing me outright.
I froze, pulling away as quickly as I could, my entire body shivering with revulsion.
But then, the sound of crashing dishes filled the room as my hand slipped.
“Oh no! I’m sorry, Sabrina, I got a bit too excited,” Mr. Allen said with a fake laugh, waving off the incident like it was nothing. At the same time, he shot Tyrone a knowing look, raising his brows suggestively.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong with you? You know Mr. Allen’s personality by now—why are you overreacting like this?” Tyrone scolded, his tone dripping with annoyance.
Without giving me a chance to respond, he grabbed a bottle of wine and poured me a full glass.
“Here, drink this and apologize to Mr. Allen. You know it’s a big no-no to act like this in the workplace.”
Both men stared at me expectantly, their eyes practically daring me to refuse. The wine in my glass felt like a ticking time bomb—one that I was sure they’d tampered with.
Tyrone, if I’m right, you’ve drugged this wine, haven’t you?
With that, I lifted the glass, and the moment I did, Mr. Allen’s eyes lit up with anticipation. His carefully laid plan was unfolding exactly as he’d envisioned.
“Boss, I’m so sorry for earlier. Let me punish myself with a drink.”
As I said that, I downed the glass in one go, ignoring the heat building in my stomach. Tyrone clapped his hands in delight.
“Well? How does it taste, sweetheart? Isn’t it great?” he asked, his tone brimming with satisfaction.
I forced a flushed smile, feigning lightheadedness. “Yeah, not bad.”
Just then, Tyrone’s phone buzzed, and after answering, he approached me with a look of mock regret.
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but there’s an urgent issue at work that needs my attention. You know how it is—being a general manager means cleaning up all the messes others leave behind.”
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if trying to reassure me. “Take good care of Mr. Allen while I’m gone, okay? I won’t be long.”
The excuse was pathetic, one I would’ve believed in the past. But now, I could see through every word.
The wine—laced with God knows what—was meant to incapacitate me, and once he left, Mr. Allen would have free reign.
Lowering my head, I let my voice sound weak and dazed. “Just me and Mr. Allen at home? Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
Tyrone froze for a moment, his nervousness flashing across his face before he quickly recovered.
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? Mr. Allen is our family’s benefactor. You should understand how important he is to us.”
Then, with an almost brainwashing tone, he added, “If this were ancient times, we’d both offer ourselves to repay someone like him.”
Listening to his shameless logic, I pretended to sway on my feet, my head lolling as I murmured, “Alright… I’m feeling dizzy. I’ll just go lie down.”
With that, I let my knees buckle, collapsing to the floor as though I’d lost consciousness.
“Sweetheart? Sweetheart!” Tyrone called, shaking me lightly. When I didn’t respond, he stood up and hurried over to Mr. Allen.
“Boss, the drug’s working perfectly. Sabrina is all yours. I’ll head back to the office now.”
The two exchanged a smug, conspiratorial glance before Mr. Allen’s face broke into a grin so wide it was nauseating.
“Don’t worry, leave everything to me. I’ll take good care of her,” Mr. Allen said, his voice dripping with sinister delight. “She’s such a beautiful woman—I’ve been dying to get my hands on her.”
