跳过内容
Novel Catalog
Chapter 65
Without saying a word, Matthew picked up his glass of wine and downed it. Before he could even set the glass down, Veronica had already poured herself another. She tilted her head back and gulped it down, the dark red liquid spilling from the corners of her mouth, trickling down her chin and along her delicate collarbone. The sight was so sensual it was almost maddening. Slamming the empty glass down, she reached for the bottle again, her eyes bloodshot.
A wry grin stretched across her face as she looked up at Matthew. With the bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, she declared, “Another toast to you! Congratulations on… Uh…” Her words faltered as she seemed to lose her train of thought, then she grimaced and finished with, “Congratulations on your engagement to Tiffany Larson. May you have as many years of happiness as you want, and as many children as you desire.”
She sneered inwardly at the situation. The bastard marrying the bastard. It was the perfect match, wasn’t it?
Matthew lifted an eyebrow, but instead of reacting harshly, he offered her a polite, detached smile. However, as she prepared to drink again, he reached out and snatched the glass from her hands.
“A 20-year-old wine collection, wasted on you like that,” he said, his tone flat but clearly irritated.
With a slap of her palm against the table, Veronica glared at him, her anger simmering. “What are you, a miser?” she shouted. “I’m only drinking two bottles! Are you so poor you’d miss them? Hmph!”
If he wasn’t going to let her drink it, she would drink all of it, and so, after yelling at him, she grabbed the bottle and took a long swig straight from it.
This time, Matthew didn’t stop her. In exasperation, he watched her drain half the bottle before popping another one open, ready to continue. But enough was enough.
“Enough!” he barked, his face darkening. He ripped the bottle from her hands. “You cannot drink when you had a miscarriage less than a month ago!”
The mention of the miscarriage hit her like a physical blow. Her face, already twisted with manic anger, froze, and she stared at him with a burning intensity. “And? What are you trying to say? Are you pretending to care now?” Her voice cracked with bitterness. “Weren’t you the one who forced the child to death? You think the Kingses are so great, that the rest of us don’t matter, don’t you?”
Matthew’s expression faltered. It was the first time he had faced her accusations head-on, and the reality of her words hit him harder than he wanted to admit. He understood now why she had gone to such extremes to lose the child, and in that moment, he felt the weight of his past mistakes crushing him. He opened his mouth to respond, but found that he had no words.
Seeing the silence on his face, Veronica’s anger flared even more. She reached out, trying to grab the bottle back from him. “Give it to me!” she demanded.
But before she could touch it, he shifted away effortlessly, keeping it just out of her reach. Frustrated, she lunged forward to grab it again. But this time, he didn’t pull back; instead, he allowed the bottle to slip from his fingers, sending it crashing to the floor. The bottle shattered into a million pieces, red wine splattering in every direction, staining the pristine white floorboards.
Veronica’s eyes widened in disbelief, her chest heaving as her face twisted in fury. She clenched her fists and moved to shove him, desperate to understand why he was treating her this way. But before she could make contact, he caught her fist in his hand.
“Let go of me!” she yelled, but Matthew only tightened his grip, preventing her from moving. Her rage was too much, and she swung her other arm at him in a furious arc. But he caught it as well, pulling her towards him so suddenly that her body staggered forward. In a fluid motion, he lifted her arm over her head and spun her around, forcing her to land back-to-front in his lap.
“Stop fussing,” he muttered, his tone annoyingly calm.
“F*ck you!” Veronica’s patience finally snapped. Her emotions, long suppressed, came flooding out in one furious explosion. With all her strength, she slammed her elbow into his chest, knocking him off balance.
It was enough. Matthew underestimated her strength, and before he could recover, she was already standing, lifting her foot to kick him. “Would any of this have happened if you hadn’t provoked me? It’s all because of you, you b*stard!”
Her leg shot toward him, but Matthew was quick. He dodged her attack, grabbing the armrest of the couch and launching himself over it in a smooth roll. He landed effortlessly on the other side, avoiding her strike with grace.
Veronica, fueled by her anger, wasn’t done. She sprang onto the couch and aimed a flying kick at his face. He ducked, evading her again, but this time, he moved quickly, reaching out to grab her ankle. He yanked her forward with one swift motion, and as her body moved with the momentum, she spun mid-air, landing a perfect kick to his shoulder.
Surprise flashed in Matthew’s eyes as he staggered backward, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Not bad,” he muttered under his breath.
But Veronica wasn’t interested in his compliments. Without hesitation, she launched a left hook at him, only for him to catch it in his hand, pulling her forward so that she tumbled into his chest. She wrapped her free leg around him in a desperate attempt to free herself, kicking him hard in the back, sending him toppling to the floor with a thud.
For a moment, it seemed as though she might have won. But just as quickly, Matthew flipped them over, pinning her to the floor beneath him. He looked down at her, his gaze dark with intensity. He hooked a finger under her chin, lifting her face toward him. “You’re skilled, but you fight too recklessly.”
Veronica’s anger only flared more, and she hissed, “You’re the one being impractical!”
Using her braced foot against the couch, she threw a punch at his face, hoping to catch him off guard. But it was only a feint. As he moved to block it, she ducked under his arm and brought a powerful punch to his ribs instead.
Matthew bent over in pain, but Veronica wasn’t done. She kicked her foot against the couch once more, flipping them both over so that she was back on top, her fists ready for another round.
But after half an hour of fierce fighting, Veronica finally collapsed, exhausted and drenched in sweat. She was panting, her energy drained, and she looked up at Matthew with a wave of surrender.
“I’m done, you b*stard. You’re such a bully,” she admitted, her voice a mixture of exhaustion and frustration.
She had thought she could vent her anger in this fight, but now she realized just how outmatched she was. To her surprise, Matthew had barely broken a sweat. It felt as though he’d been holding back, using only a fraction of his strength to subdue her. Her exhaustion was evident as she lay on the floor, but Matthew was still as composed as ever.
With a cold, dismissive snort, Veronica pushed herself off the floor and stalked over to the bar. She grabbed another bottle of wine, determined to drink it all away.
Before he could stop her, she glared at him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Shut up,” she snapped. “I’m only drinking a few bottles. If you don’t let me, I’ll smash every single one of them. Not only that, but I’ll tell your grandmother you were shameless.”