Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 177

In the upscale neighborhood of Willow Creek Estates, a taxi rolled to a stop at the side entrance. A woman, wrapped in a white down coat and wearing a mask, stepped out and briskly made her way into the community, pushing open the door of a villa adorned with beautiful candles that bore the image of a cat.

Inside, Miranda, who had been anxiously waiting, immediately approached her.

"Mila!"

"How did it go?"

Mila shut the villa door behind her, removing her mask with one hand while carrying a large bag with the other, heading straight for the basement.

"He was quite cooperative," she replied.

Miranda walked alongside her, shaking a translucent bag in her hand, which contained a handgun that glimmered under the light.

Roland had been in a rough situation, and Mila was concerned about him, but she didn't want things to escalate to violence. They had reached a compromise.

Roland had tossed the gun behind the basement door and backed away while Miranda retrieved the gun and tossed in the medication he needed. Fortunately, Roland was compliant.

At the foot of the stairs, standing by the basement door, Mila exchanged a glance with Miranda.

bag with her gloved hands, expertly loading it. Though she hadn't used this particular model before, her familiarity with firearms made it

basement,

motionless. Scattered around him lay opened iodine packets and antibiotics, suggesting he had passed

"Roland?"

he

ready to fire if he made any sudden moves. Despite her experience with firearms, this was her first time aiming at a person, and her

managed to lay him flat on the

to reveal a blood-soaked bandage wrapped haphazardly around

them with iodine, she carefully cut away the makeshift bandage and poured hydrogen peroxide over the wound,

was so quiet that one

her clumsy technique caused Roland, still unconscious, to occasionally

there was nothing more she

someone with a gunshot wound to the hospital was out of the question, and calling for outside help was equally impossible. She had to rely on the rudimentary medical knowledge she had picked up from a doctor

have

was lucky, though. The bullet had grazed his side, exiting cleanly without lodging inside, making the injury an external one and somewhat easier

finished, she

brief rest, they cleared away the medical waste from the basement, hauling blankets back and forth to make a makeshift bed on the floor, and

Miranda finally allowed herself a