Chapter 17: You Forgot Your Identity

"Move aside, I don't have time right now. There's a handsome guy waiting for me outside. Next time, okay? Next time you can hit on me." She said, pushing the man in front of her and trying to walk away.

She had barely taken two steps when the man behind her lifted her onto his shoulder with great force.

"Hey! Who are you? Put me down!" Jaida struggled with all her might, hitting and kicking August as she hung upside down over his shoulder.

"Jaida, behave yourself!" The angry man smacked her butt as a warning.

"Huh? August?" Jaida finally recognized the familiar voice and the scent of disinfectant on the man who was carrying her away.

August ignored her and carried her upstairs to his private lounge.

The bar staff watched their boss, who rarely visited the bar, carry a drunken woman over his shoulder with a grim expression. No one dared to speak; they only watched as the door slammed shut with a loud bang.

Jaida sat on the sofa, feeling the tension in the air. She didn't dare move and had no idea what to think.

August stood silently, staring at her. He sneered inwardly. This woman was really something. He had just finished a surgery that night, and she was already at the bar drinking and dancing with other men. It seemed she needed to be taught a lesson.

After a while, Jaida suddenly looked up, her eyes glistening with tears. She pointed at August and accused, "You... you hit me."

Her voice was choked with sobs, and her eyes were full of grievance.

Seeing her like this, most of August's anger dissipated. He took a deep breath, grabbed her pointing finger, and looked down at her. "Jaida, you've learned to play the victim. Impressive."

"Anyway, you bullied me," Jaida retorted, pouting. The man had hit her hard on the butt in front of so many people.

August's Adam's apple bobbed as he looked at her pouting lips.

"Then I'll bully you more," he said in a low voice.

Jaida watched as he began unbuttoning his shirt, one button at a time. When she realized the danger and tried to run, August had already pinned her in the corner of the sofa, one hand braced beside her ear and the other arm around her.

"August..."

August silenced her protests with a kiss, pinning her wrists behind her.

His kiss was so forceful that it gave her no chance to catch her breath. It was like his punishment for her, but also an expression of sexual desire.

August buried himself below her collarbone, biting and nibbling. Before long, Jaida's body softened and gave way to the desire awakened within her. She began to respond slowly.

August slightly lifted himself from her body, his eyes filled with sex desire, asking her with heavy breaths:

"Who am I?"

As he spoke, he kissed her lips, cheeks, and neck, becoming increasingly seductive.

Jaida was about to break down, couldn't he stop making such moves!

This pervert, who was already on top, actually stopped at a critical moment to ask her!

Was he unaware of how uncomfortable she was?

"August, hurry up." Jaida, not daring to look into his eyes, hung her hands around the man's neck, her face flushed red, her voice carrying a hint of breathlessness.

Satisfied with her response, August bent down and lifted her from the sofa, walking into a small compartment and gently placing her on the bed, leaning over to press down on her.

On the other side, after returning home, Amaya had vomited twice.

The first time was right after she entered the door, feeling a wave of nausea. Jaylan, who walked in behind her, was splattered with her vomit. Infuriated, Jaylan glared fiercely at her.

The second time was right after she lay down on the bed, her stomach churned. Fortunately, everything was just in time; when Jaylan saw her about to vomit, he quickly handed her a trash can from beside the bed.

After Amaya finished vomiting, she began to unfasten the zipper of her skirt but couldn't reach it, starting to pull at the neckline in frustration. “It’s so hot.”

Jaylan, seeing the disheveled woman, said coldly, "No taking off your clothes!"

He didn't want to touch her while she was drunk.

Amaya looked up. "I'm hot."

"Endure it!" The man's lips moved, and he spat out two words.

His face turned dark as he leaned in, cupping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. "Is it because I've been too lenient that you've forgotten your place?" His voice carried a hint of coldness.

Amaya had forgotten that he was a man with an extremely strong sense of possession, how could he allow his wife to drink with other men in a bar, even if other women were present?

With a slight increase in her drunken courage, Amaya shouted, "Mind your own business! Our marriage isn't based on love; we just live and play separate lives."

Hadn't he also been staying out late and not returning home for several days since he came back from abroad? Why couldn't she go to the bar?

Jaylan's face turned ashen, his eyes red as he tightly held her chin, forcing her to look at him: "Amaya, it seems I've been too good to you, making you forget your place!"

"You are Mrs. Hancock, bought and paid for by me. Do your duty and don’t bring shame by flirting with others outside!"

Jaylan, gritting his teeth, spat out each word before turning and slamming the door, leaving.

Amaya lay sprawled on the bed, feeling a mix of emotions, mostly drunk and unable to speak.

After a while, she came to her senses, her face pale. Yes, she had crossed the line.

The two in this marriage were not on equal footing. The control was in Jaylan's hands, and from the moment she accepted the one million, she had accepted this unequal and unfair marriage. She shouldn't have assumed she could place herself on an equal footing with Jaylan as his wife.

Their relationship was more like that between a superior and a subordinate rather than a married couple.

When she initially married him, she had told herself that as long as she and Jaylan treated each other with respect, the path wouldn't be too difficult. Since she had understood this, why did she overstep now? It was foolish of her to do it.

On the position of Mrs. Hancock, all she needed to do was behave properly, read the room, and handle things carefully.

With this realization, the heavy stone weighing on her heart was lifted off, and she fell into a deep sleep.

Amaya woke up the next day to find the sun already high in the sky. The throbbing pain in her temples from the hangover, the disarray of the bed and the crumpled skirt on her body reminded her of bits and pieces of the night. She remembered that Jaylan had driven off after slamming the door and didn't return.