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

But if Marion wasn't coming, Debra didn't know what would happen to her.

The thought sent a shiver through her bones. She pounded her fist against the door, frustration fueling her.

"Open up. I need to speak to Drake."

"Save your breath, Ms. Frazier. No one opens that door without his orders."

"So, if I die here, that's fine with you?"

"Even if you die, I can't open the door without his orders."

Realizing the futility, she stepped away from the door, her mind racing. Waiting for Drake to release her wasn't an option. She needed a plan.

Her gaze swept over the room, pausing on the stacked bottles of wine. An idea began to take shape.

Hours crawled by, the silence inside the cellar thickening like a shroud. Outside, Lara shifted nervously. It had been almost ten hours, and not a sound had come from within. Upstairs in the study, Drake was playing chess alone.

Kale entered, carrying a tray of dinner. "Marion's men seem to have vanished. We're still looking for their hideouts. Someone inside the city might be helping them." Drake barely glanced at the meal. "And Debra?"

"Still in the cellar."

"No noise, no fuss?"

"No."

"No food or water?"

"Nothing, as per your orders."

Drake's hand slipped, placing a chess piece in the wrong spot. Something felt off.

Just then, Lara burst into the room, her face pale with panic. "Boss, there's a problem with the wine cellar."

Drake shot to his feet, a cold wave of dread washing over him.

The maids on the first floor hurried towards the underground wine cellar, each carrying buckets and pumps.

When Drake arrived, he found the area outside the cellar already flooded with wine up to his ankles. The cellardoor was still locked, but wine was pouring out through the cracks. He had a bad feeling about what might be happening inside.

"Open the door!"

"Yes, boss."

Lara fumbled with the lock, but the pressure from the liquid inside

forced the door open, releasing netBelongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

flood of crimson wine that cascaded down the steps.

Drake waded into the cellar, the wine now waist-deep. From behind him, Kale shouted, "Boss, it's dangerous." "Debra!" Drake's voice thundered through the flooded room. "Come out!"

A moment later, Debra's head surfaced above the swirling wine gasping for air. Her once-white dress clung to her body, now stained a deep red.

Yet despite her disheveled appearance, there was a glint of triumph in her eyes.

Drake was pissed off, letting out a dark, humorless laugh.

When Kale rushed in, he pointed at Debra and ordered, "Get her and take her to my room."