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181 The Secret Between Mia and Her Brother

I sat in the driver's seat and peered through the window as Frade and the bartender dragged the intoxicated Iverson out of the pub with his head hung low. On their way to the car, Iverson even sprayed vomit on Frade's suit.

Frade and the bartender worked together to put Iverson on the back seat, and he couldn't help complaining, "This guy is really heavy."

I scowled as I saw the intoxicated man. He smelled like alcohol, which made the air in the car disgusting. I'm beginning to regret my involvement. Mickle should be the one to clean up this mess.

“Wait, there's his wheelchair,” the bartender says, hurrying back to the bar. Soon, he's carrying Iverson's wheelchair and putting it in the trunk of the car.

“Can we go now?” I asked.

“Where?” Frade asked, fastening his seat belt. “Should we send him back to Mickle's estate?”

Just as I was about to say yes, Iverson yelled at us from the backseat.

“I'm not going back to that old man's house. I'm not going back!”

“Shut up!” I scolded him. “We
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