Chapter 733

Debra surveyed the spilled wine and toppled barrels. Even with ten cleaning staff laboring through the night, it was impossible to clean up. Drake was doing this on purpose to give her a hard time. If she wanted him to escort her to the casino, she needed to rethink her strategy.

Seizing a fleeting opportunity before Kale returned, Debra darted to the first floor. A maid spotted her and asked, “Ms. Frazier, why are you out of the cellar? Mr. Lowe ordered that you can’t leave until it’s cleaned up.”

Debra forced a nervous smile. “I was scared down there all alone. Have you seen Kale? He was with me, but I looked around, and he just disappeared.”

The maid paused. “I think I saw him go upstairs a while ago. He’ll probably be back soon. If you’re scared, I can be down there with you.”

Debra hesitated. “But Mr. Lowe said no one else is allowed down there except Kale. And I just found out the detergent was running out. Could you grab me a bottle? I’ll wait down there.”

“Sure, I’ll get it for you.”

“Thanks.”

Once the maid left, Debra hurried back to the cellar. Moments later, Kale came back with a bottle of detergent. He glanced around, noting the absence of the maid and the eerie silence that had settled over the cellar.

“Ms. Frazier?” His voice echoed, met only by the unsettling emptiness. “Stop hiding.” He stepped deeper into the dimly lit room. The mess remained, but Debra was nowhere to be found.

Frustration crept into his voice. “If you don’t come out, don’t blame me for what happens next.”

Just then, a clatter echoed from the far corner. Kale’s sharp ears caught that sound, and he figured it was from the southeast. He stalked over and found Debra standing there with her back toward him. She seemed to be holding something.

“Ms. Frazier, what are you doing?” he demanded, his tone heavy with doubt.

Debra spun around and replied nervously, “Uh, nothing.”

Kale narrowed his eyes, recognizing the signs of a bad liar. “Nothing? Really?” He gripped her arm and demanded, “Give me whatever you’re holding.”

“I’m not holding anything,” Debra stammered, biting her lip.

“Then what’s behind your back?” His voice turned icy as he moved closer, ready to exert force if necessary.

Debra’s hands trembled, and finally, the object slipped from her grasp, clattering against the stone floor. It was just a broken wine bottle.

Kale frowned, his gaze darting from Debra to the shattered glass at their feet. Just then, footsteps came from the door, followed by the maid’s voice.

“Ms. Frazier, I’ve got the detergent.”

Kale’s attention wavered just enough for Debra to seize her chance. Grabbing the jagged edge of the bottle, she pointed it at him, her voice quaking but resolute. “Stay back! Help!”

“M–Mr. McLean?” The maid bumped into the scene and stepped back in terror. “T–I didn’t see anything.”

She turned to flee, but Kale’s cold voice halted her in place. “Stop!”