?<strong>Chapter 772:</strong>


    But the ordeal wasn’t over yet.


    No one intervened; their focus was entirely on Fannie. Wrapped tightly in the shirt and unable to move because of her injured ankle, Fannie trembled, haunted by the earlier attempt to strip her, her mind swirling with fear.


    Bobby then turned his attention to the two subdued men. “What did she order you to do to Fifi?” The men stammered in response.


    Impatient, Bobby snapped, “Then give her the same treatment, but twice as hard.”


    The men exchanged worried nces, mindful of the payment they had received from Selma.


    Michael, seeing their hesitation, kicked them sharply. “Are you deaf?”


    Reluctantly, they slowly got up and moved toward Selma.


    Jett, clearly conflicted, finally said, “The police will arrive soon. You should take Fifi and go.”


    Michael instructed Bobby, “Take Fannie to the hospital. We’ll handle things here.”


    “Okay.” Bobby gently cradled Fannie in his arms.


    Can remained behind to oversee the situation.


    Dulce paused, concern for Fannie evident, but decided following them would make her feel like an intruder. Instead, she stole a nce at Michael, her heart racing.


    Dulce was full of words butcked the courage to follow through. She trailed behind Fannie and Bobby as they stepped outside.


    “Could you help me out with something?” Bobby asked, assisting Fannie into the car.


    Caught off guard, Dulce blinked. “What?”


    “Selma snapped a few photos of Fannie earlier. Could you erase them for me?”


    Dulce figured Bobby’s true intention was simply to get some private time with Fannie. Knowing Jett’s thoroughness, it was unlikely he would miss such a detail concerning the photos. Unexpectedly, Bobby added, “I don’t trust your brother.”


    Dulce forced a smile. “Alright.” She retreated indoors, where she found Jett, Michael, and Can gathered outside the door. From behind it, Selma’s screams pierced the air.


    Curiosity piqued, Dulce peered through the narrow opening, catching intermittent shes of a camera.


    “You’re not worried about seeing something you shouldn’t?” Michael promptly shut the door.


    Dulce noticed a ring on his finger, a poignant reminder of his marriage vow. She knew Michael’s wife had passed away. Jett asked, “Why are you back?”


    “Bobby wants me to delete the photos Selma took.”


    Jett dered, “I’ve got this covered. Why don’t you go check on Fifi?”


    Dulce scratched her head. “But Bobby doesn’t really trust you, you know.”


    Jett’s face twisted into an ufortable grimace. A heavy silence fell over the room.


    Out of the corner of his eye, Michael caught sight of Jett’s arm bleeding, the dark fabric of his clothes concealing the injury. “You really should head to the hospital to get that looked at. We can manage things here.”


    The evident distrust from Bobby and his crew told Jett it was time to move on. His presence was no longer wee. Reflecting on his past actions and his failure to appreciate Fannie when he had the chance, he realized it was now toote for any words.


    .


    .


    .