"Are you going to confess or not?"


    A sharp voice reached Drake''s ears. Through blurred vision, he saw someone


    pick up the whip again.


    His lips curved into a faint smile. "Come closer, and I''ll tell you."


    The interrogation had already gone on for a day. No matter how tough someone


    was, they couldn''t hold out any longer.


    The henchman smirked and stepped forward. Drake''s voice was barely audible,


    but he had to go closer.


    "That thing is in hell," Drake whispered, suddenly breaking free from the ropes


    that bound him.


    In the next instant, he snatched the whip and wrapped it around the henchman''s


    neck.


    Then, like the first time he killed someone, he pulled back with all his strength.


    Both times were life-or-death situations. Despite his struggles, the henchman


    couldn''t avoid his fate. In less than a minute, his life was choked out.


    Drake slumped onto the ground, feeling drained. That knife was still lodged deep


    in his chest.


    Suddenly, light footsteps came from outside the room.


    Drake groaned inwardly, ''This is fate the karma for all the bad things I''ve done.''


    But he wasn''t afraid. Death was something he could face calmly.


    The door flew open, and then Debra''s voice came. "Drake!"


    Drake''s eyes, which had been unfocused, cleared up in an instant.


    As hey on the ground, he turned his head and saw Debra running toward him,


    with Marion right behind her.


    His eyes flickered. ''It''s her again. This woman just wouldn''t leave me alone.''


    Ever since meeting Debra, his life had gone downhill.


    First, his casino was destroyed, his


    business wrecked, and both his


    fiancées had their marriages


    canceled. Finally, he lost his position


    as the president of the Lowe Group.


    And she kept taking advantage of him. No other richdy couldpare to her in


    terms of saving money.


    "Hang in there. The doctor ising," Debra cried out, helping him up.


    Marion rushed up. "Let me help."


    "I don''t need your help," Drake said weakly. "I can walk."


    "Don''t be stubborn, okay? It isn''t the


    right time," Debra said, finally


    noticing the knife lodged in his


    chest. "Oh my God."


    Drake forced a smile. "Don''t look at me like that. I''m not dead yet."


    His words didn''t relieve her at all.


    She quickly turned to Marion. "Get him out of here. The ambnce should be


    arriving soon."


    "Got it." He ced Drake''s arm over his shoulder and headed toward the door.


    Drake suddenly had a déjà vu


    moment recalling a mission they


    had gone on together. He''d been


    shot on the leg, and Marion had


    supported him just like this.


    His nose stung, and he muttered, "You said the three of us would be lifelong


    friends. Do you still mean that?"