Goodbye, Mr. Ex: I've Remarried Mr. Right

"How could there be robbers?" Debra frowned.

The place was a fortress, bristling with guards, maids, and bodyguards, not to mention the state-of-the-art security system. It was virtually impregnable. No ordinary robber could infiltrate it. Erica tugged nervously at Debra's arm. "The police should be here any minute. Let's not get involved. We should go."

Debra shook her head. "No police. I'm going in."

Randy was astounded. "Debra, don't be reckless."

Debra glanced at the grand entrance, having a general idea of what was going on.

She made a dash toward the house. Inside, the hall was chaotic and dark.

Suddenly, a pair of hands gripped her arms. "Boss, we've got a woman here."

The robber's voice caught the attention of their leader in the darkness.

"Let her go."

"But..."

"I said, let her go."

The voice was unmistakable. Even though it was lowered, Debra knew exactly who it was.

"Debra, get out of here," Juan said weakly.

Debra ignored his warning, moving closer to the masked man.

"Stop this nonsense. The police will be here any second," she whispered. Marion stiffened, and she added, "You've vented your anger. It's time to go."

Marion remained silent, but a subordinate stepped forward and said, "Boss, we've controlled the whole Nichols family. Let me finish off Juan for you."

A sharp crack echoed as Marion struck the subordinate.

"Boss..."

"Withdraw," Marion commanded.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

"But..."

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

Marion turned, striding out of the estate. His subordinates released the Nichols family's staff and followed suit.

Debra took a deep breath.

"Turn on the power."

"On it."

Confirming safety, Joe dashed

toward the electrical room on the War. Moments later, the house

first

bathed in light. Conteet

belongs

Juan was slumped by the sofa, his face pale. A knife was protruding from his left side, and blood pooled around him.

"Find a first aid kit and call an ambulance!"

The room sprang into action. Debra approached Juan, examining his wound. The knife was stuck in his left side. Fortunately, it hadn't been pulled out; otherwise, he would be in much worse shape, likely dead before the ambulance arrived.

"Hang in there. Don't pull out the knife. I'll get some clotting medicine. We'll wait for the ambulance," she said.

Juan managed a weak smile. "Alright, I trust you."