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

Debra woke up groggily, unsure how long she had been out. The room around her was pitch black, and memories started to rush back.

She remembered that she had been thrown into this dark room by Drake's people.

A sharp pain shot through her arm, causing her to suck in a breath. She instinctively tried to pull her arm away, but a man's voice cut through the darkness. "Don't move."

"Who are you?"

A nurse turned on a flashlight, and Debra squinted against the sudden brightness.

"You've got a fever," the nurse explained, "Mr. Lowe ordered us to treat you."

Debra glanced at the discarded plastic packaging on the floor. It said fever medication.

She relaxed slightly, though her tone remained cold. "How long does Drake plan on keeping me locked up in here?"

"That's up to Mr. Lowe," the doctor said without any emotion. "We don't question his decisions."

Seeing that they were only there to treat her, Debra pressed further. "Is he planning to kill me?"

"If Mr. Lowe wanted you dead, he wouldn't have sent us to help you," the nurse replied.

Debra rolled her eyes. "Fine. I need to use the bathroom."

Her demand caught the doctor off guard.

She added, "It's a basic human need. Do you expect me to do it here? Does Drake have some twisted obsession with watching people use the bathroom?" Her eyes flicked to the two-way mirror in the corner. The doctor and nurse exchanged uncertain glances.

"That's not up to us."

"Then go ask him for permission. I don't mind, as long as he doesn't fear that I'll sully his space."

In the observation room, Drake arched a brow, surprised by Debra's smart move.

If he refused, it would imply he had some vulgar interest in watching women use the restroom, which would be a stain on his reputation.

Peter grumbled, "Sir, she's getting out of hand. We should teach her a lesson."

"No. Let her go," Drake said.

"What?"This content provided by N(o)velDrama].[Org.

"I said, let her go. Are you deaf?"

"I'll do it right away."

Peter hurried to the small, dark room. "Mr. Lowe has given his permission."

Debra sighed with relief, struggling to her feet as the nurse helped her. She deliberately slowed her pace as

she was led out of the

The place was a labyrinth. She realized they were on the upper deck of something like a cruise ship.

"Hurry up!" Peter urged impatiently.

Debra glanced at him sullenly. "I don't know the way."

Peter's face flushed with frustration, but he had no choice but to guide her to the women's restroom.

Debra took the chance to memorize the ship's layout. The faint sway of the ship told her they were moving. If she wanted to escape, her only option was to jump into the sea.

It was almost suicidal. She decided she would have to wait until the ship docked. "Move it," Peter barked.

Debra limped toward the bathroom, every step a painful reminder of her injured, swollen foot. The saltwater had made her

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She wondered if Marion and Juan had already deemed her dead.

"Are you done yet?" Peter pounded on the door, jolting her from her thoughts.

Debra reached for the door but stopped when she heard Peter's voice turning polite. "Sir."

Her mind spun, and she drew back her hand.