Heartstrings on Fire (Agnes and Jared)

Chapter 817

It wasn't until later that Agnes had an epiphany. Why had Ryder made such a point of introducing her to

everyone, and then introducing each one of them to her?

She was just a humble journalist, yet there she was, suddenly thrust into the limelight as if she were the

star of the show.

A twinge of discomfort settled in Agnes' stomach.

During the dinner, she tried her best to remain silent, focusing solely on navigating her way through the

meal.

The others were deep in conversation about business developments and market prospects.

Agnes just let their words wash over her, barely registering. But even as she tried to blend into the

background, it was as if the others wouldn't allow her to fade away.

Midway through the dinner, the project leads and managers started to take turns toasting her.

It was highly unusual. These were men and women of stature, not given to lowering their shields so

casually.

Agnes didn't want to drink, and she knew her limits—both in consumption and behavior.

Past embarrassments, fueled by alcohol, were lessons she didn't care to repeat.

But these folks were silver-tongued, persuading her with ease.

With a few choice words, they left her cornered, with no graceful way to decline.

Ben and the others were already tipsy, unable to come to her aid even if they wanted to.

Involuntarily, Agnes' gaze sought Ryder.

He knew she didn't drink. Yet there he was, leisurely enjoying his meal and wine, seemingly oblivious to

her plight.

Agnes sighed inwardly. It was naive to think Ryder would help her.

With no other recourse, Agnes sipped minimally. But after two glasses, her demeanor shifted.

Once the alcohol hit, all bets were off.

Next thing she knew, Agnes was the one initiating toasts, drinking heartily.

The table's atmosphere soared, laughter and witty banter filled the air.

By the time Agnes made her rounds, she was visibly unsteady.

Finally, she staggered over to Ryder, wine bottle in hand, and poured him a full glass. This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

Her words slurred slightly, "Ryder, I've got something to say to you."

Ryder looked up, his gaze resting on Agnes' flushed, clearly intoxicated face, his voice steady and

clear: "What is it?"

Agnes, hand on his shoulder for balance, confessed, "Ryder, I'm sorry."

She tried to clink her glass against his, but Ryder didn't reach for his drink. Undeterred, Agnes grabbed

his glass from the table, touched it to hers, and muttered a solitary "Cheers."

She downed her wine in one go.

Ramona was the only one at the banquet who hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. She watched Agnes

with concern and had intended to dissuade the others from urging Agnes to drink, but seeing Ryder's

indifference, she hesitated.

Surely Mr. Whitfield, Agnes' family by extension, wouldn't let harm come to her. Yet he remained

detached, watching the scene unfold as if from afar.

By the time Ramona realized her mistake, it was too late.

Agnes was already too far gone, toasting everyone in sight, unstoppable.

After another round, Agnes poured herself another glass and continued, "Ryder, seeing you today... it's

really upset me. Do you know why? Because you've changed. You've abandoned medicine for

business. I don't think it suits you, it's not you, you know?"