Married at First Sight

Chapter 3693

Chapter 3693 Chapter 3693 – No matter how capable Mr. Dunn was, he was still just a man —and an old one at that. He was almost eighty, a few years older than her, and still working for her. But no matter how strong he was, he couldn’t compete with younger people like Zachary. He wasn’t invincible. Just like Mr. Jimenez—he had been powerful too, but the assassins she sent nearly killed him. Even though he survived, he was seriously injured and had suffered from pain and illness for decades. If it weren’t for a miracle doctor, Mr. Jimenez wouldn’t be alive today. Clarissa didn’t want to believe things were hopeless. She tried calling Mr. Dunn again. The call connected, but he didn’t answer. The phone rang for a long time, but there was still no answer. She called again. Still nothing. It felt like her heart was falling into a bottomless pit. Coldness and despair crept up from her feet, spreading through her entire body, leaving her heart frozen. It was over. Completely over. She hadn’t managed to kill any of them, couldn’t escape, and even her assistant was likely dead. Looking at her daughter, kneeling and begging her to stop, and at her three sons standing by Holden, waiting for the ambulance, Clarissa smiled through her tears. The one who truly cared for her was her daughter. She felt guilt toward her older and younger sisters and was ashamed to face them. As a mother, she was too embarrassed to face Kathryn. “Kathryn, stand up!” Clarissa called, telling her daughter to stop bowing. If Kathryn hurt herself, it would break her heart as a mother. “I made mistakes, but there’s no way to undo them now,” Clarissa said to her daughter. “Kathryn, just live your life. Don’t let anyone pressure you. Remember what I’ve told you. NôvelDrama.Org owns all content.

“Pedro, I hope you’ll remember what I asked of you and what you promised me. Kathryn, I’m leaving her to you. Take care of her.” Clarissa knew there was no turning back, but she couldn’t face prison. She’d rather die than be locked up. She didn’t want to endure the shame and insults from everyone. For decades, as the head of the family, she pushed out anyone who opposed her, took away benefits from many family members, and gathered all the power into her own hands. She had made too many enemies. While people in the family showed her respect, secretly they wished for her downfall. She didn’t fear enemies. She’d even killed her sister, who raised her—why would she care about offending others? But after all the things she’d done, all the enemies she made, the power she built now benefited her eldest sister’s descendants. It made her angry. But what could she do now? She had taken what wasn’t hers, and now it was slipping away. Clarissa raised her pistol again toward the people below. There were only two bullets left in the gun—she had already fired three. Seeing this, the police shouted for everyone to move back. Luckily, the yard of the Farrell family mansion was big, so when people retreated to the edges, they were several hundred meters from the main house. Clarissa’s old pistol had a short range. As long as they stayed far enough, she wouldn’t be able to hit them. It was also night, and though the yard was well-lit, it wasn’t as bright as daytime. Clarissa, at seventy, didn’t have the eyesight she used to.