Chapter 883

Anton drove back home, his car tearing through the streets. In the backseat, Cathryn felt his rage and said, “Anton, please slow down.”

“Shut up!” Anton yelled, his eyes flashing with anger in the rearview mirror. He had thought that Marion would care about their old feelings, but Cathryn had proven utterly useless, defeated in just a few rounds. Compared to Debra, Cathryn was nothing more than a pretty face.

Cathryn’s expression darkened at Anton’s rebuke. Just as they arrived at Anton’s place, they saw the front door wide open, with security guards moving in and out.

Anton slammed on the brakes and rushed out of the car, shouting, “Who authorized you to move my things? Who sent you?”

“Mr. Ellam, this is your termination letter,” a secretary said, handing him a document. “We are following company protocol. This villa is provided by the company for its directors. Since you have been dismissed, we must reclaim the villa and allocate it to the next director.”

“What did you say?” Anton gritted his teeth. “Is this Marion’s order?”

“It’s both his and the company’s decision,” the secretary replied coolly, ignoring Anton’s protests and ordering the movers to hurry up.

“No, don’t take our things. Please, don’t take them away,” Mathilda Ellam cried, running out of the house and clinging to her husband. “Anton, why are they taking our things? Say something.”

Anton was on the verge of a breakdown. “Damn! I’ve dedicated my life to the company, and now they’re taking my home. Marion, you’ll pay for this.”

Watching from the sidelines, Cathryn felt the full weight of Marion’s power for the first time. She wondered if the only way to win him back was to gain power herself.

News of Marion’s return with Debra spread like wildfire, appearing in newspapers and on various platforms.

In the study room, Drake read the news and sneered. Marion had moved quickly, but he hadn’t expected Debra to come along.

Kale bowed his head. “Boss, it was my fault. I didn’t anticipate that Cathryn would be so useless.”

“It’s not your fault,” Drake said. “Marion came prepared, and Debra is no pushover.”

Ever since learning that Debra was the head of the McKinney Group, Drake had stopped underestimating her. Her previous acts of weakness and vulnerability had all been a façade.

The thought made him seethe with anger. If he ever got his hands on her again, he would make her suffer.

Drake loosened his tie and asked, “Has Debra’s drug addiction acted up yet?”

“Based on the timeline, it should have flared up two or three times by now,” Kale replied, furrowing his brow. “But she hasn’t shown any signs of withdrawal. Could she have kicked it?”

“Impossible,” Drake asserted. “I know my drugs. There’s no way she could have quit in just a few days.”

“Then why is she all right? Has she been taking drugs all this time?” Kale muttered.