"Marion?" Debra rubbed her sleepy eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall.

It was already 12:30. The incident last night had drained her energy, causing her to sleep in.

She pushed open the bedroom door and walked out. Downstairs, Marion was cooking in the kitchen.

The others still seemed to be asleep. Debra spoke up. "Your injury hasn't healed yet, and you're already rushing to make me lunch?"

Marion came out holding a pot. "Go rest a little longer. The other dish will be ready soon."

Debra came down the stairs and flopped into his arms. Her exhaustion instantly melted away.

"I'm so tired. Get a drumstick for me," she murmured.

"Sure," Marion agreed, patting her head.

room, sniffing the air. "Who's cooking chicken soup? It

gaze landed on the embracing couple. Feeling awkward, he looked up at the ceiling and whistled,

let me take care of the kitchen," said

refused without

then turned softer as he told Debra, "Wait on

nodded,

his cleaning. It looked like he didn't know anything about

to doubt her

It was

or just an

looking haggard

didn't find the three missing socialites or

"What about Frederic?"

"Who?"

who saved

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