Married to my Ex-wife's boss

Chapter Twenty-nine

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Roseline pulled the covers. The black cover cloth served its purpose.

It was the best part of the escapade. A cloth not as soft as the usual one worn but also not as hard and brittle as a bucket.

It was the perfect in-between. The perfect one that could fit even a giant's head.

Sandra's red hair sprawled out; scattered and disorganized. That perfect cloth had accommodated that mass of hair.

Her head fell on her chest, weak, just like her rotational neck. It was bare; both her chest and her arms were bare.

As to why she would still have a nightdress on when the time had been running to 10 AM, was a question Roseline didn't try to waste her time thinking of.

She dwelled on more present things.

The room was stuffy and there were cobwebs around. It might not have been perfect for a bedroom, but it actually wasn't small in size. It was enough for four abductees to fit in together with each of their killers.

There was no ceiling, the cobwebs took its place.

She had not taken time to check the location, to choose a better one. There was no better one; no use for it.

Life was going to end in the room anyway. Within five minutes she was positive that Sandra's head would be rolling on the floor, provided things were good.

She took in a sharp breath, and allowed joy to fill her heart, to console the sacrifice she has to exchange this situation for.

In a way, this might be the best gift ever she had received from her father.

Not only had he given her permission to eliminate Sandra, he gave her all the necessary means, coverage and tons of assassins to work with.

Those were the things that truly mattered. Not the room one stayed in.

After all, Of what use was it to beautify the passing on.

She cocked her head, taking in Sandra's physical features. Her red hair and pale skin stood out in the poorly lit room. Its shadow was almost as bright as the features themselves.

She could give her the prize for taking care of herself well. But certainly not for trying to mess with her man.

Her chest tightened with the remembrance of that day she had gone naked just to seduce her man. It didn't matter that she had been married to him before.

He wasn't Sandra's anymore.

Yes! He was her man now. She shouldn't butt in.

If she had kept her butt and nose out of the business, she would have pardoned her. She wrinkled her nose.

Even as she spoke, she knew that was false. She already had it in mind to kill her. So no matter what she would've done, there wouldn't have been any going back.

Sandra was getting on her way. She had to be removed one way or the other. Especially now that she had gone as far as planting a bomb, in her company, in Fiona's car.

Was that going to ever be forgiven?

Sandra made a sound, a grunting sound and then moved her head towards her right shoulder.

She postponed the ponder and chuckled.

It had been easier than she had expected. In fact, she had expected a little struggle from her.

But she seemed to have accepted her fate quickly.

Maybe because of the chloroform; just a small quantity of it that was planted in her room— in her sleep, that caused her to doze when the cloth went over her head.

It was just a guess. That task wasn't her part to carry out. Hopefully, whoever carried out had done it well without going extra.

Sandra moved again, turning from her right to her left and then to the right again, her neck beginning to understand the sense of direction.

Roseline chuckled again; softly. Things were going just as imagined.

Only a few minutes from now, she would be heading back to visit David; have great sex with him as a way of rejoicing.

She moved to the window to pull away the covered black drapes. They had darkened the room enough it was time for the main work to start.

The light was needed for that appropriate torture tools to hit where the were supposed to hit.

“Wakey wakey,” she called out in a light tone, as she moved to the table to pick her pen-knife. She held it up, to see better.

It had to be sterilized. There was no need to infect her before she gave up the ghost.

Sandra showed no sign of understanding. She was still asleep which was quite surprising to Roseline.

It had been over an hour, getting to two hours since the abduction.

Had the chloroform mixture been too strong?

She wondered unsuccessfully. She wasn't fully certain that it had only been the chloroform. It might have been mixed with another drug before being given to her.

A cloud fell across her face. She wanted to be the one to kill Sandra while she still had consciousness.

Poisoning her was a form of weakness, a weak way to kill. She wanted her to know who the killer was before she died.

So she frowned more, moved to tap Sandra. Thankfully, with the one tap, she moved her body—her head.

Her hair fell across her face, she moved again, shaking it away. It didn't budge. She tried to use her hands, and realised that it was tied.

Then raised her head, flipping her head backwards for better eyesight.

But Roseline had no liberty to watch Sandra's waking-up face.

“Ma,” one of her underlings rushed the door aggressively, already screaming her name.

“Your dad had gotten David. He's taking him to the mountain,” the girl spoke frantically, her words barely recognizable.

Her features, mad.

Roseline opened her mouth to reply but it stuck in her throat. She felt blood drawn from her upper body, rushing quicker than she could ever remember, to her feet.

She knew what that meant for David