A loud crash came from Drake's room.
Debra paused for a moment before opening the door.
Inside, Drake was still lying on the bed, but his complexion had improved a lot.
In black pajamas, he threw a dart at the TV. The screen shattered beyond repair.
"Looks like someone's in a bad mood," Debra said.
Drake glanced at her and remained unhappy.
"Was faking my critical illness Marion's idea?"
"Yes."
"Have you caught the person behind it?"
"Not yet."
"My company was taken. It was all Marion's fault."
"He did it to protect you. The assassination reveals their intention to seize the Lowe Group because they think they can't control you anymore. They wouldn't stop until you were dead. You got lucky and survived, but next time, you might not be so fortunate."
"I don't need him to protect me."
"I know the crest better than anyone. Our crests are custom-made. Not just anyone can wear one. These crests are given to our most loyal guards and elite operatives. They only take orders from the family head. If they're acting, it means someone truly wants you dead."
"Is there any chance these guards were bribed?"
"We pay them well enough," Drake explained. "Besides, we have strict selection processes, and we hold their families as collateral. Betrayal isn't an option."
"Not even for a fortune?"
"They make millions annually. How much would someone need to offer to buy off that many operatives?"
Debra fell into deep thought. In the end, she asked, "The new president was elected yesterday. You hold the largest share of the company. Why were you still replaced?"
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