Relentless Temptation

Ethan felt a sharp pang in his chest as he watched Lily's relentless pursuit of intoxication. What the hell was wrong with him? Why should he stop her? If this foolish woman wanted to drink herself to death, so be it.

Tugging at his tie, Ethan leaned back against the plush sofa, an inexplicable sense of frustration weighing heavily upon him. Lily continued her single-minded mission, grabbing bottle after bottle, pouring the alcohol down her throat with a reckless abandon that bordered on suicidal.

As the minutes ticked by, Lily maintained her rhythm - grab, drink, discard - in a seamless, almost mechanical fashion. The onlookers watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Ethan's dark, brooding gaze remained fixed upon her, taking in every detail. The way she rolled up her sleeves, the heat of the alcohol coursing through her veins. The way she squeezed her eyes shut, lost in a world of pain and desperation. The way she tilted her head back, the alcohol spilling from the corners of her mouth, trickled down the delicate lines of her neck and collarbone in a manner that was nothing short of seductive.

The men beside him stared at her with undisguised hunger, their eyes roaming over her form like vultures circling a wounded prey.

"Enough." Ethan's voice was cold as he snatched the bottle from Lily's hand, hurling it to the floor. The bottle shattered, its contents seeping into the plush carpet beneath their feet.

"Get the hell out of here, all of you!" He snarled, his face contorted with rage. How dare they ogle his woman like that?

The seasoned partygoers, well-versed in the ways of the night, took one look at Ethan's thunderous expression and wisely chose to make a hasty retreat. Their movements were frantic, almost comical in their urgency, as if fleeing from a natural disaster.

No one in their right mind would risk incurring the wrath of Ethan. To cross him was to forfeit any hope of success in the Asian business world.

"I'm not finished," Lily glared at him defiantly, reaching for another bottle from the ice bucket.

With a resounding crash, Ethan upended the entire bucket, his eyes darkening with barely contained fury.

Just two more bottles. Two more bottles, and she would have finished the entire stash. What the hell was this man thinking?

Lily opened her mouth to protest, but a sudden wave of nausea overwhelmed her. The room spun before her eyes, and she shook her head violently in a futile attempt to clear her vision. Staggering to her feet, Lily mumbled, "I need to use the restroom."

Ethan remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin, unyielding line.

The door to the private room seemed to blur and multiply before Lily's eyes, and it took her several long, agonizing moments to find the right path. In the restroom, she splashed cold water on her face, desperately trying to regain some semblance of clarity.

The face staring back at her from the mirror was flushed a deep, almost comical red, her eyes glazed and unfocused. This was Lily, twenty-two years old, reduced to a drunken mess.

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but Lily quickly splashed more cold water on her face, refusing to let them fall.

"Ugh—" Another wave of nausea hit her, and Lily retched violently, the burning sensation of the alcohol tearing through her throat and chest, leaving her gasping for air, feeling as though she were on the brink of death.

But she couldn't give up. She couldn't let her uncle's family fall apart. Lily, you can do this, she told herself fiercely. You can't let them down. You can't let everything you love crumble to dust.