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.

loading it. Though she hadn't used this particular

basement, one

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

"Roland?"

closer, calling softly. When he didn't respond, she approached even

experience with firearms, this was her first time aiming at a person, and her hands trembled slightly with tension, beads of sweat forming

managed to lay him flat on the ground without him stirring. He

reveal a blood-soaked bandage wrapped haphazardly

pulled out scissors from the large bag she had brought. After disinfecting them with iodine, she carefully cut away the makeshift bandage and poured hydrogen peroxide over the wound, repeatedly cleansing it before applying a hemostatic

so quiet that one could

wasn't a professional, and her clumsy technique caused Roland, still unconscious, to occasionally

was nothing more she

help was equally impossible. She had to rely on the rudimentary medical

would have

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

Mila finished, she was sweating

the basement, hauling blankets back and forth to make

Miranda finally allowed herself a breath