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

"Are you done?" Drake asked, his patience thinning.

"Yes," Debra replied, pushing the phone back across the table. "Take a look and see if there's anything you'd like to add."

Drake wasn't expecting her to be so forthcoming. He glanced at the phone, checking the new social media account she'd created. There was only one post. It was a selfie, her face slightly retouched to look healthier than she actually was. The location was on the island, and the caption read, [All is well. The gunshots were just for show. I've been down with a high fever, so I've been out of it for a bit. Thanks for the concern, but I'm alive and kicking.]

It was playful, light-hearted, and most importantly, believable. The post had already garnered hundreds of likes and comments within minutes.

Drake closed the app and handed the phone to Peter. "Put it away."

"Yes, sir," Peter replied, sweat dripping down his back.

Debra, sensing her opportunity, leaned back in her chair and quipped, "Well, Mr. Lowe, we've been so caught up talking that our food's gone cold."

Peter froze in his tracks, unsure of what Debra was getting at.

Debra said, "Mr. Lowe dislikes wasting food. Why not heat it?"

"I don't like wasting food, but I don't eat reheated food either," he said flatly, turning to Peter. "Dispose of everything. Don't waste it."

Drake rose from his seat and strode toward his private quarters.

Debra stood up as well, patting Peter on the shoulder. "Make sure to clean it all up. Mr. Lowe hates waste, and so do I."

Peter was pissed off.

"Oh, and don't forget to send fresh food to my room. I'd prefer something light but with plenty of meat. Thanks," she added, heading back to her room.

Peter was left fuming. He had thought that Drake was going to punish Debra, but in the end, he was the one who ended up suffering.

...Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

In a bedroom at the Blair family's residence, Shelia had just received news that Debra was alive.

With a furious swipe, she knocked the entire dinner set off the table.

A maid rushed in, startled by the noise. "Miss Miles, what's wrong?"

Shelia shot her a withering glare. "What did you call me?"

"I..."

A sharp slap rang out.

The maid clutched her cheek, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm new here."

The housekeeper, Holly, entered the room and chided, "What are you doing here? Miss Blair doesn't like to be disturbed during her meals. Go!"

The maid sobbed, "I'm just here to work. I'm not a slave! Why did she hit me?" She ran out of the room.

Shelia was surprised that a mere maid dared to defy her. She slammed her hand on the table "Holly, what kind of people did you hire? She can't even handle @little grievance?"

Holly said helplessly, "Miss, you've already driven away three maids this month Even if they have a temper, you should restrain yourself a little."

Shelia scoffed, "With my dad away, I'm in charge of this household, and they do as I say."