They All ’Died’ For Her? With Terminal Cancer, I’m Done Playing Their Games Novel - Chapter 94

Chapter 8 Those men's faces instantly turned white as paper, their legs going weak as they instinctively looked toward Sage, hoping she'd say something. They dropped to their knees with thuds, tears and snot flowing, looking helplessly toward Sage. "Sage! Save us! We were doing it all for you!" But Sage could barely protect herself, cowering and not daring to lift her head. "Perfect." Sterling's lips curved into an icy arc, like a judge passing sentence.

"Since you love licking so much, you can do it yourselves. Right now, get on your knees. Lick up every single drop of that wine on the floor, without missing any." 'Mr. Whitmore…" one man was so scared he nearly wet himself. 'We were wrong! We were blind! Please…" 'Too late." Sterling cut him off, his tone brooking no argument: "Either lick, or I'll make sure your entire families spend the rest of their lives licking prison floors.

Your choice." Under Sterling's absolute power, dignity and face became nothing but jokes. The men looked ashen, glancing at each other, and finally, under overwhelming terror, they dropped to their knees one after another with thuds, rembling like dogs as they shamefully buried their faces into the ice-cold carpet mixed with glass shards and expensive liquor. 'LICK!" Sterling commanded coldly.

They didn't dare disobey, sticking out their tongues like the most degraded animals, beginning to lick. The strong alcohol mixed with carpet dust and glass fragments choked them until tears and snot flowed, but they didn't dare stop. Sage watched her people's fate and was so terrified she shook like a leaf, gripping Reed's arm tightly.

Reed's face was also iron-gray, his fists clenched, unable to help speaking up: 'Sterling, don't you think you're going too far!" Sterling completely ignored him. Instead, he turned to the hotel manager, his voice returning to its usual calm but carrying unquestionable authority. 'Tally up the damages, ten times compensation. Put it on Sage Whitmore's, Reed's, and her friends' accounts.