Chapter 353 +25 BONUS

Debra, observing from the sidelines, felt a sudden surge of nervousness. The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening. She wondered how Juan would react to the news of her death. She had expected him to be pleased, as her demise would allow Sheila to legitimately take her place as Mrs. Nichols.

As if on cue, Sheila’s sweet voice filtered through the phone. "Juan, whose call was that?" The line disconnected, leaving Debra with a bitter taste in her mouth. Even if Juan knew she had died, he wouldn't show an ounce of emotion. Sheila was his true love, after all.

As Debra prepared to leave this eerie dream, she was jolted by the doctor's angry voice. “Who moved the Type A blood? Didn’t you check beforehand? Do you even know who’s lying here?”

Debra’s eyes fluttered open to find the doctor fuming. She looked down at her lifeless body; the baby she had been carrying was lost forever. She was Mrs. Nichols, and the child was Juan's unborn heir.

The nurse stepped back in fear. “I–I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” the doctor snapped, turning to another nurse. “And you?”

The nurse, head lowered, cried bitterly. “It was Miss Miles.”

Debra was stunned. It was Sheila, not Juan, who was behind this? She wanted to demand an explanation, but her voice failed her.

The nurse continued, “Miss Miles said her relative urgently needed blood, so she had all the Type A blood from the blood bank moved. We couldn’t refuse.”

Everyone in Seamar City knew how much Juan loved Sheila and that Debra was merely a figurehead—a shell occupying the position of Mrs. Nichols. No one would dare defy Sheila.

“Alright, alright. Anyway, she is dead. Get her to the morgue, and we’ll talk when Mr. Nichols arrives.”

“Yes,” the nurses replied in unison, their faces etched with fear.

Debra remained frozen, her mind racing as she tried to grasp the situation. It wasn’t Juan who had moved the blood, but Sheila.

In the blink of an eye, Debra found herself in the morgue, her body covered with a white sheet. The click of high heels echoed through the cold, sterile space as a nurse led Sheila inside.

Sheila walked with an air of grace, her white designer dress hugging her figure perfectly. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her delicate face was lightly made up, giving her a mature and sophisticated look. She carried an expensive handbag and wore exquisite jewelry, exuding an aura of wealth and status. She was no longer the poor college student she once was.

“Miss Miles, did Mr. Nichols send you here?”

Sheila wrinkled her nose, covering her mouth and nose with a handkerchief. She smiled sweetly and said, “Juan is too busy, so he sent me to confirm the body. I can sign off now.”

“But her family…”

“I’ll sign for Juan. Any other questions?”

“No, please follow me to sign upstairs.”

“No need. It’s inconvenient in these heels. Just get the death certificate and bring it down here. I’ll sign it here.”