Chapter 604

Debra jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. Juan was nearby, soaking a towel. When he noticed she was awake, he asked, “Do you want something to eat?”

The sight of Juan only deepened her fear. Instinctively, she scooted away from him, a motion he couldn’t help but notice.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he asked.

It was indeed a nightmare. In her dream, it felt as if she had been transported to her past life. She had observed everything as a ghost. When she had seen the gravestone, the pain of dying on the operating table had rushed through her all over again.

Juan silenced her with a look, mouthing, “There’s a camera.”

Debra composed himself and forced a smile. “Yeah, just a bad dream.”

“You’ve got a fever,” Juan said, glancing at the thermometer. “101 degrees Fahrenheit. I’m making some oatmeal for you, and the medicine is on the table.”

“Okay,” Debra replied smoothly.

After Juan left the room, her mind replayed the dream over and over. If that dream was a glimpse of events after her death, why did Juan speak of revenge? Could it be that he wasn’t the one who removed all the type A blood in the hospital? Then… !

The scene of Shelia taking the ring from her finger in the morgue suddenly flashed through Debra’s mind.

‘Could it be Shelta?’

She threw off the covers and made her way downstairs.

In the kitchen, Juan stood in the morning light, stirring a pot of oatmeal. His clumsy movements seemed at odds with his usual composed nature. Debra watched in silence. In her previous life, he had never cooked for her. After all, he didn’t love her.

‘I’ll do it.’

“Why are you out of bed? Go back and rest.”

Debra handed him his phone. “Your phone’s been ringing nonstop. Joe called.”

Juan took the phone and, seeing the numerous missed calls, immediately sensed the urgency.

Debra walked over to the stove, turned off the heat, and said, “The oatmeal needs to simmer on low, or it’ll burn.”

“Forget it, I’ll order takeout,” Juan muttered while dialing Joe.

Debra glanced at the nearly burnt oatmeal and smiled wryly. She took a small taste, and it was bitter. Lucky for her, she hadn’t eaten this in her past life.

In the bedroom, Juan asked over the phone, “What’s going on?”

Joe’s grave voice came through. “Sir, have you read the news?”

Juan frowned and halted the show’s filming.

In bed, Debra watched as the camera crew shut down their equipment.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing to worry about,” Juan replied. “The crew is just focusing on the other guests for now. You’re not feeling well, and they don’t want to disturb you.”

His explanation sounded reasonable enough, but Debra sensed there was more to it.

“What did Joe say on the phone?”

“Nothing serious.”