Chapter 6

Vernon’s exaggerated movements quickly drew curious onlookers. He looked at me pitifully, wiping wine from his face and whining, “Joshua, I just wanted to say hello. Why did you throw wine at me?” I stared, shocked. His charade became clear as Racquelle stormed toward us, her face contorted with rage. This was a performance, solely for her. But why? To her, I was merely a tool, a Smith family servant. I cared nothing for her; what did he gain by this setup?

Before I could decipher his motives, she reached me and slapped me hard. The sharp sound reverberated in my ears. Racquelle quickly helped Vernon up, then pointed at me, shouting, “Joshua, how dare you! Hurting someone I care about is courting death!” Vernon, playing the gentleman, waved her off with a bitter smile. “Racquelle, don’t blame him. I thought he looked lonely and went to chat. I didn’t expect… Forget it. Everyone has bad days.” His words painted me as the aggressor, highlighting his vulnerability.

Her anger intensified. She snatched a liquor bottle from a waiter and thrust it at me. “Drink this and apologize to Vernon, or face the consequences.” The bottle felt heavy. The doctor had warned me against alcohol, spicy food, and exertion—Racquelle knew this, yet forced me. She clearly aimed to humiliate me publicly. A crowd had gathered, their hushed whispers escalating. “Isn’t that Joshua Smith, the adopted son?” “It’s him! The rumors are true—he’ll do anything for money.” “How humiliating! He’s a grown man!” “I knew him in college—a business prodigy, women flocked to him!”

I dared not defy Racquelle; Julianna’s life remained in her hands. I took the bottle and attempted to open it, but even twisting the cap felt arduous. She sneered at my struggle. “Go on! Keep acting helpless!” She tossed me a bottle opener, snapping, “If you don’t want to drink, leave.”

“I’ll drink.” The sharp scent of liquor hit me like a blow. I braced myself, taking a long gulp. The alcohol burned, inducing nausea, but I persevered, unwilling to give Racquelle an excuse to prolong my torment. My stomach roiled; I gagged, then coughed up blood. Racquelle’s initial disdain turned to shock. “What’s wrong with you, Joshua? It’s just alcohol! Are you even a man?” Vernon retreated, hiding behind her.

“I…” Another wave of blood flooded my mouth. The crowd gasped; someone yelled, “Call an ambulance!” My strength ebbed; dizziness overcame me. I stumbled backward. “Joshua! Watch out!” A woman’s voice—not Racquelle’s—cried out in concern.