My Brother, The Devil ✔

05

Blair POV.

Antonio is right. As a recovering patient, I shouldn't be drinking so much.

My stomach starts churning, the pain even making my ears ring. Then I am sent to the hospital again for an IV drip.

At night, I have a high fever. I'm vaguely aware of Antonio's visits a few times, as well as Amelia, my family doctor. She sits by my bedside, gently wiping my dry lips with a cotton swab dipped in water.

I haven't known Amelia for long, but she is responsible, almost like a loving mother, reminding me to sleep regularly, eat regularly, and drink less alcohol every day. But I don't quite listen to her.

The next morning when I wake up, Amelia pours me some water and asks, "Feeling better?"

I don't speak, just take the water she poured and sip it slowly.

With extreme patience, Amelia tells me, "You can't drink anymore."

I lazily agree, "Okay."

"And you need to cut back on melatonin, otherwise, it will gradually stop working for you."

"I don't take much."

"You've taken half a bottle within a week."

As Amelia continues talking, my thoughts drift away. I look down at the reflection of the sun in the water cup, but the word "why" keeps echoing in my mind.

I pull out the IV needle from my hand, throw off the blanket, and start changing clothes.

Amelia stands up beside me, "Miss. Blair, at least finish the drip?"

I put on my coat and shoes, "Did you drive here?"

"Yes."

"Take me to George's place."

"Miss. Blair..."

I stand up and straighten my collar, walking out towards the door, "You don't want to go? I'll go by myself."

According to George's usual routine, he should be at work now.

On the way to his company with Amelia, I repeatedly dial George's number, but he doesn't answer, only sending me a text saying he's in a meeting.

I get off at the company's entrance and walk straight in, passing by the receptionist's desk and walking into the elevator.

The elevator stops at the top floor, I get out, walk to the end of the corridor to his office, and open the door.

It's George's private office, and he's smoking behind his desk.

"Who gave you permission to barge in?" he stubs out the cigarette.

"So, this is your so-called meeting?" Behind me come a series of rapid footsteps from the secretary.

"You can go," George waves his hand at them.

The mahogany door closed. I pace around the office, feeling sorrow for his taste.

George's office is old-fashioned, as dull as a coffin.

He says, "You've lost all basic manners after being abroad for a few years."

I sit across from him, staring into his eyes, "What basic manners? Are you saying I didn't knock on the door to say hello, or that I plied an innocent girl with alcohol and then forced her to kneel down?"

George ignores me.

I smile, crossing my arms, "Chloe's ring was always there, right? You lied to her, made her think the ring was lost, and had her go to the old mansion."