"You... why are you in my... my bed..."
Bertha Haines was full of terror. She pulled up the blanket to cover her naked body, questioning Clare Lewis as her teeth chattered.
"Sister, this is my bed."
Clare Lewis slowly sat up, the blanket slipping down to reveal his solid physique. He still had that smiling face, but in Bertha Haines' eyes, he had already turned into a beast.
"Sister, don't you remember? Last night you drank too much and came knocking on my door."
Bertha Haines was wide-eyed, full of disbelief: "That's impossible! You're talking nonsense!"
Clare Lewis shrugged: "If sister doesn't believe it, there's nothing I can do. You might have mistaken me for... General Manager Smith."
The incident had already happened, and Bertha Haines had no choice but to believe it. She glared at Clare Lewis, her eyes bloodshot.
