York's voice was devoid of any emotion. "Eat your breakfast and get some rest. Tomorrow night is the Grandeur Group's annual gala, and you need to attend with me."
Claudia's lips twisted into a numb smile.
So that was why he was so eager for her to eat. He wanted her to accompany him to the gala tomorrow.
She turned her head to look at him but still refused to speak.
York calmly took out his phone.
"Claudia, a hunger strike won't work on me. If you refuse to eat, I'll call your parents right now and have them come over to convince you."
Faced with his threat, Claudia finally reacted.
Her eyes were red, her lips trembling as she finally found her voice. "Don't bother my parents," she rasped. "I'll eat."
She tried to pick up the bowl, but her hands were shaking so badly she couldn't get a grip.
York opened his mouth to speak, but his chest felt tight, as if a vise were crushing him. It was a dull, aching pain.
Yesterday, he had been too rough with her.
He instinctively reached out and took her hands in his.
When he spoke again, his voice had softened without him realizing it. "I'll feed you."
He carefully spooned the broth into her mouth, and she took large, gulping swallows.
Tears of rage streaked her face, yet her throat was too raw for screams and her hands stayed clenched at her sides, refusing, or unable, to move against him.
She'd slapped him yesterday and had learned her lesson.
Neither of them spoke again, the atmosphere thick with suffocating tension.
York ignored her tears and fed her until the entire bowl was empty.
Putting the bowl down, he took a napkin and gently wiped her mouth.


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