"Idiot." Sylvan Cheney gasped in anger, finally gritting his teeth to squeeze out the two words.
If he didn't speak, he would be driven to death by fury.
He glared at the small woman standing by the bed with her big belly, his eyes full of coldness and anger.
The small woman touched her belly, looking very justified.
He stared at her, and she stared back at him.
Sylvan Cheney was helpless.
What kind of woman had he taken a fancy to? Totally unafraid of him.
Such an arrogant woman, she was really the first one he'd ever seen.
"You're still scolding me? Sylvan Cheney, really, if you have the guts, just keep starving yourself, keep drinking. Just say the word, and I'll go downstairs and buy you some wine, vodka? Brandy? Tell me what you want to drink, and I'll buy it for you."
Sylvan Cheney closed his eyes once more; he felt like he might be driven to death by anger.
Trying various ways to calm his heartbeat, but he just couldn't settle down.
