Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel 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.

Miranda understood immediately. She retrieved the gun from the bag with her gloved hands, expertly loading it. Though she hadn't used this particular model before, her familiarity with firearms made it easy to handle.

They entered the basement, one after the other.

In the corner, Roland slumped against the wall, head bowed and motionless. Scattered around him lay opened iodine packets and antibiotics, suggesting he had passed out from the effort.

"Roland?"

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

The gun in Miranda's hand remained trained on his chest, 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 hands trembled slightly with tension, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

Thankfully, Mila managed to lay him flat on the ground without him stirring. He was truly unconscious.

She lifted his shirt to reveal a blood-soaked bandage wrapped haphazardly around his lean, muscular waist.

Mila took a deep breath and 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 spray.

The basement was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.