Chapter 795 Debra Really Is a Child of the Wellington Family?

Chapter 795 Debra Really Is a Child of the Wellington Family?

Edward and Evelyn went back to their room, where Edward told her everything he knew about Jessica and Debra.

He could have kept it to himself and handled things quietly on his own.

Evelyn listened in silence. Her beautiful eyes narrowed, and the cold glint in them was unsettling.

"Molly went through so much pain and suffering, and Debra had everything to do with it."

The next second, she grabbed a coffee cup in a fit of rage and smashed it to pieces.

Edward's heart clenched. He quickly took her hands and checked them carefully, cradling them in his large palms and gently soothing her. "Evelyn, don't let your anger get the better of you. Hurting yourself over someone like that isn't worth it."

"Every family has a bad apple, but Debra is like some kind of mutant — she's on a whole different level."

Evelyn was so furious that her usually sweet, clear voice came out rough and hoarse. "When Tiffany showed up pregnant all those years ago and pushed her way into the family, Mr. Wellington must have demanded a paternity test, right? Is Debra actually a Wellington?"

Edward's expression darkened slightly. "Grandfather did have a paternity test done back then," he said quietly. "The results confirmed that Debra is Patrick's child."

"Haven't you ever watched a soap opera? Paternity tests can be faked, and doctors can be bribed. Tiffany managed to hide a murder for twenty years — what's a little paternity test to her?"

Once Evelyn's mind started running, there was no stopping it, and the conspiracy theories kept piling up.

Edward's expression grew serious, but his fingers quietly slipped under her collar at the back of her neck, gently stroking the soft skin there that he found so irresistible.

It helped him feel calm.

He wasn't the least bit impatient, and he didn't think it was far-fetched at all.

The truth was, he'd had the same suspicion himself. But so many things had been pressing down on him, pushing him forward, and the thought had gradually faded from his mind.

"Right now, the priority is dealing with her teaming up with the Clark Group to frame Molly."

Edward drew her close, his hand trailing along the curve of her slender waist. "So, my dear, what's your brilliant idea?"

"Taking Debra down is the easy part. Now that Tiffany's gone and she's lost that backing, the more she acts up, the faster she'll fall."

Evelyn leaned into him, her slightly curved red lips like a sharp, cold blade. "But we need to do it the right way."

"Evelyn, just do whatever you need to do. Don't worry about the Wellington Group — I'll hold things together there." Edward's gaze was intense and steady.

Evelyn shook her head slowly. "If Debra's dirty laundry gets aired publicly, the Wellington Group will end up just like the Alexander family. Even setting you aside, think about how Grandfather would feel. She's still his granddaughter. No matter how disappointed he is in her, blood is blood."

Byron placed enormous importance on family, and at his age, after everything that had just happened with Molly, he couldn't take another blow.

"The best outcome would be getting her to confess on her own. But we need the right bait."

Evelyn smiled faintly, though her eyes were ice cold. "She thinks she just won a battle. She's probably on top of the world right now. Let me give her a few more surprises."

The better you know your enemy, the better your odds.

Just like she'd known Gilbert wouldn't be able to resist going after Randy, Evelyn had a clear read on Debra — drunk on her own success and completely full of herself.

While the Wellington family was sick with worry over Molly, Debra was out partying like nothing had happened — bar-hopping all night, drinking herself senseless, and when the mood struck her, using her autistic sister as gossip fodder with her crowd of trashy friends.

She was feeding on her family's pain, finally letting out all the bitterness she'd bottled up for so long.

After Tiffany died, Debra had kept a low profile for a long time, too afraid to draw attention or make any moves.

But ever since she'd teamed up with Jessica, she'd slowly realized something —

Even without Tiffany, she could still play the game. She could still pull the strings and make everyone else dance.

That night, in the chaotic VIP room of a club.

Debra was grinding against a good-looking male entertainer while the people around them egged them on. Riding an alcohol-fueled high, she pressed herself against the stranger without a care in the world.

In the middle of the chaos, he led her into the bathroom.

They kissed like they were trying to devour each other. He tore at her clothes, and at first she resisted a little, her arms crossing over herself.

Then suddenly, her pupils shrank.

His nimble tongue slipped something into her mouth. Before she could react, she'd already swallowed it.

"What... what did you just give me?" Debra shoved him away, breathing hard.

"Something that'll make you feel really good," he said with a hazy smile, his lips brushing her ear. "Besides, it's not your first time, is it?"

Debra quickly lost herself in the waves of sensation washing over her, her mind a blur, her body feeling like it was floating.

She had no idea how much time passed. Eventually the room cleared out, and the man zipped up his pants and pushed open the bathroom door.

Debra was slumped against the sink, her clothes in disarray, her smile uncontrolled, drool at the corner of her mouth — a complete mess.

The man walked back into the VIP room with a look of disgust.

Sitting on the sofa was a man in a sharp suit — composed, refined, and completely at ease.

"Sir, I've done what you asked," the entertainer said, walking over with a respectful manner.

"Good work. Sorry you had to deal with something that filthy." William looked up, a slight smile on his lips.

"Not at all... it was nothing."

"I've received the photos and videos."

William slowly slid a bank card across to him. "That's the agreed amount — one million — plus an extra five hundred thousand from me. I hope you get well soon."

The man paused, picked up the card, and gave a self-deprecating laugh. "If this disease of mine could be cured, that'd be a medical miracle. Don't worry — I've got an early flight out of the city tomorrow morning. I won't be coming back."