Chapter 5

"Of course." Louisa drained her glass in one go, then poured herself another two, both downed. "Is this enough, Mr. Foster?" She forced a smile.

Nearby, Vivian noticed she was being completely ignored while watching Louisa skillfully navigate these shrewd businessmen.

Not wanting to be outdone, she raised her own glass with a stiff smile: "Mr. Foster, I was in the wrong before. I was too impulsive. This drink is for you—consider it my apology."

Though her words were apologetic, her attitude remained condescending.

Being a sheltered heiress with no experience in business dinners, she naively assumed that simply speaking up would be enough to earn his respect.

But she'd forgotten that David was someone she had offended.

During the signing attempt, when David had tried to make inappropriate advances, she had humiliated him thoroughly.

So now, David didn't even glance at her, much less acknowledge her gesture.

She felt awkward, but having already spoken, she had to follow through.

She drank too quickly—the alcohol burned, and she choked, coughing.

George, sitting beside her, patted her back.

He took the glass from her hand and addressed David coolly, "My assistant just graduated from college and can't handle alcohol. Mr. Foster, I'll drink this on her behalf. Please don't hold it against a young woman."

With that, he finished the remaining alcohol in Vivian's glass in one swallow.

This gesture clearly signaled that Vivian was under his protection. Anyone with social awareness would overlook Vivian's previous mistake out of respect for him.

But he'd forgotten that Louisa was still at the table.

Witnessing this scene, Louisa suddenly felt the three glasses of alcohol burning in her stomach, making her feel both miserable and nauseated.

To make matters worse, David kept refilling her glass, clearly intent on getting her drunk.

Seeing this, George finally showed some concern, placing his hand over her glass. "I'll drink Ms. Forbes's share as well."

"Mr. Capulet, you're truly chivalrous," David said with a smile.

"Indeed, Mr. Capulet, you're drinking for both your assistant and your secretary. Isn't that a bit much?" another colleague chimed in.

Though their status was far below George's, they represented the Taylor Group and couldn't sacrifice the company's dignity.

Besides, at a business dinner, George's behavior showed great disrespect to the Taylor Group.

They were in the right—there was nothing to fear.

The third colleague added, "Exactly. If you drink for everyone, how can we continue? How about this—choose one person to drink for, not both. What do you say?"

Before the man finished speaking, George's expression had already turned frighteningly cold.

The entire private room fell into deathly silence.

Louisa remained quiet. She knew that if George insisted on shielding her from drinking, the Taylor Group representatives wouldn't push too hard. The worst outcome would be failing to sign the contract.

But she wanted to stay silent and see what choice George would make.

At that moment, Vivian looked at him with hopeful eyes. "George, I don't want to drink."

As she spoke, she hooked her hand with his under the table.

He squeezed her hand, giving her a look that said: Don't make trouble.

To everyone else watching, this exchange appeared intimate.

The men at the table all smiled knowingly. "It seems your choice is already clear."

Indeed, George was thinking that Vivian, having been pampered all her life, couldn't handle this kind of situation.

Louisa was different—she was used to dealing with all types of clients. No matter how difficult they were, she always found a solution.

Today, he would have to let her handle it.

He'd make it up to her later.

Little did he know that Louisa had a serious stomach condition. Drinking alcohol would cause her stomach to bleed, with potentially devastating consequences.

She bit her lip hard, saying nothing, a bitter smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Apparently, her suffering meant less than Vivian's simple "George."

The jarring laughter around her made her head buzz and her vision blur.

Then David reached over to refill her glass. "Ms. Forbes, let's continue!"

Louisa closed her eyes briefly, struggling to maintain her composure. She smiled at David, "If you want to drink, I'll certainly keep you company. But before we drink, shouldn't we discuss the project first?"

David ignored her suggestion. After filling her glass, he sat back and smiled, "Why the rush, Ms. Forbes? You haven't eaten anything yet. I was just thinking the fish tastes a bit bland. You should try it."

Everyone present was shrewd enough to understand his implication: if they wanted the deal, the Capulet Group would need to offer better terms.

The contract had already been finalized—this sudden demand was nothing short of extortion.

George's expression darkened.

He could afford to reduce the profit margin, but once he did, the Capulet Group would be in a vulnerable position.

How could his company maintain its standing after such a concession?

He shot Louisa a meaningful look—even if they couldn't sign the contract today, they absolutely couldn't yield on the terms.

Louisa returned his glance briefly, then smiled calmly at David. "So, Mr. Foster, how much more 'salt' do you think would be appropriate? Maybe a precise percentage?"

She played along with David's metaphor, testing his bottom line.

The only person at the table who didn't understand their coded conversation was Vivian.

She leaned closer to George, whispering, "George, is Ms. Forbes stupid? How can salt be measured in percentages?"

George didn't respond, just gave Louisa a dark look.

Louisa ignored him.

David, hearing her question, smiled broadly. "Twenty percent more should do it."

Louisa nodded with a smile. "Twenty percent is certainly doable."

As soon as she spoke, everyone's expressions changed.

George shot her a severe glare. He had made his position very clear—what was she doing?