Rosalind White stared blankly at Adrian Law, her mind like two little figures tearing at each other.
One said not to believe Adrian's words, that maybe he was just lying to save face because Cecilia was present.
But the other one told her that perhaps what Adrian said was true.
...
The more she recalled the scene from that night, the more it felt like a heavy fog. When she was with the man who had entered the room on the bed, she vaguely sensed something was off. Yet under the effects of the drug, her entire being was overwhelmed by desire, leaving her to think she'd only ever seen Adrian in clothes and didn't know how much stronger his real physique was.
After all, seeing each other naked is naturally different from estimating by eye.
This excuse, in retrospect, seemed like comforting herself, too flimsy to hold water.
Rosalind White bit her lip hard, tasting the blood seeping into her mouth, barely holding onto the edge of sanity.
