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Returned to the Death Toast: My Revenge Starts with Handcuffs Novel Cover

Returned to the Death Toast: My Revenge Starts with Handcuffs

For two decades, an annual holiday drinking tradition was a financial death trap. Tricked into paying his sisters' massive debts, the protagonist lost everything—his wealth, his health, and eventually his wife, Jean McCarthy. On his deathbed, he learns the horrifying truth: his parents had been drugging his drinks for years. Now, granted a second chance at life, he awakens at the dining table during the twentieth year. It is time to turn the tables on his treacherous family.
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Chapter 4

Dahlia was shaken by my display, while the relatives around us gasped.

"Weston always came across as a gentle one, so I didn't realize he had this kind of fight in him."

"That big bowl must hold roughly 8.5 fluid ounces, right?"

Dahlia gritted her teeth and picked up the bowl. "I'll drink it! I'm not afraid of you!"

She threw her head back and drank too, but halfway through, she choked. She coughed until her face was flushed, spilling the drink all over herself. "H-How potent!"

Jasmine furrowed her brow as she lifted the bowl and took a cautious sip. "You should take it easy; otherwise, you'll keep choking on it, Dahlia."

She continued to sip it tentatively.

I fixed a freezing gaze on her. "You're barely touching it, Jasmine. You were so loud before this. You couldn't possibly be getting cold feet now, right?"

Jean, who was beside me, refilled my bowl. "You should take it easy, Weston."

I gave Jean a reassuring smile before turning to Jasmine. "You can forfeit now if you can't handle it, Jasmine. You just have to return the 300 thousand dollars, and we'll call it even."

Jasmine took the bait and downed the bowl. She kept it down, but her face turned beet red instantly.

It was the end of the first round, and everyone had consumed 8.5 fluid ounces of vodka.

I could feel a searing heat spread through my stomach, but I refused to let my composure slip.

Upon seeing the state of things, Mom rushed over with a glass of water. "You should drink some water to settle your stomach, Weston."

I noticed that the water looked slightly murky and knew, in an instant, that it was spiked as well. I shoved the glass aside and grabbed the bottle. "I don't want any water since it'll ruin the flavor of the vodka. It's time for the second round!"

I topped up the bowl again and raised it in my hand.

Dahlia's hand started trembling. She cast a desperate glance at Dad, silently begging him to step in.

Dad cleared his throat and stepped in. "That's enough now. What's the rush? We should just talk and take our time with the drinks."

I slammed my bowl onto the table. "Those are the rules—the first one to pass out loses. I don't remember saying anything about a break. If you've lost your nerve, sign the agreement and transfer the money this instant. If not, keep drinking."

I downed the second round in one go, and this time, I could taste blood in the back of my throat. I still forced myself to swallow the vodka, though. I slammed the empty bowl face-down on the table and snapped, "Drink up!"

Dahlia shuddered with fear after hearing my command. She looked into my bloodshot eyes, and her heart began to race with dread. She couldn't help but wonder if the person before her was the submissive Weston she once knew.

She thought that I seemed more like a malevolent spirit seeking restitution.

She toughed it out and finished the second round. She sank into her seat immediately after, staring vacantly into space.

Jasmine drank as well, but she pulled a fast one. She spat half the liquor into her napkin when she thought no one was looking.

I saw everything plainly, yet I didn't call her out.

I poured the third bowl. We were on the third bottle by now, and the air was thick with the pungent smell of liquor.

Dahlia was already beginning to ramble. "I-I'm not drunk, s-so keep them coming!"

Jasmine was still putting up a front, but her grip was gone. She couldn't even keep the bowl level.

I waited for the perfect opening, then suddenly grabbed my stomach. I collapsed onto the table after swaying a couple of times. "I-I can't do this anymore…"

Ryan sprang up, yelling with excitement, "He's down! He's finally down! Get the agreement so that he can sign it right now!"

Mom rushed over and gave me a nudge. "Weston? Can you hear me, Weston?"

Upon seeing that I had actually "gone down", Mom breathed a sigh of relief. She then turned to Dad and said, "I told you he couldn't handle it—that earlier bit was just a flash in the pan. Get Weston to put his thumbprint down this instant, Jack."

Jasmine wiped the vodka from her mouth and sneered. "You actually think you can take me down, huh? You're way out of your league! It seems like not only is the mortgage sorted, but we've secured the down payment as well!"

Just as Dad grabbed my hand to press my thumbprint onto the debt transfer agreement, I opened my eyes.

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