Novel Name : We Are Not Getting Remarried: Show Yourself Out

We Are Not Getting Remarried: Show Yourself Out Chapter 1943

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Chapter 1943 Take Away

I knew it. Elisa's heart sank.

She lifted her gaze, attempting to negotiate with Mr. Carrerra.

“It's sufficient if I accompany you,” Elisa replied firmly. “My friend here has no involvement in this affair,

nor does she have any personal connections with you.”

Rachel gently squeezed Elisa's hand from behind. Elisa's expression remained unchanged as if she

didn't feel a thing.

Mr. Carrerra burst into hearty laughter as he pointed at Elisa. “Well, well. You're quite loyal, aren't you?

What a pity.” His tone changed abruptly. “No one is leaving today!”

Mr. Carrerra raised his voice, drawing the curious gazes of those nearby. They regarded him with odd

expressions, as though they were observing an unusual spectacle.

Nevertheless, after locking eyes with Mr. Carrerra, they promptly averted their gaze.

Legend had it that individuals who lived perilous lives were invariably accompanied by a handful of

wayward souls, bearing the lingering scent of mortality.

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Although Elisa didn't feel oppressed, being next to Mr. Carrerra was indeed somewhat uncomfortable.

“So, there's no room for negotiation?”

Elisa's indifferent tone was no longer as pleasant as before, making it hard to discern whether she was

perturbed.

Mr. Carrerra nodded, crossing his arms leisurely as he looked at Elisa. “Yes, no room for negotiation.”

His expression seemed to say, “What can you do about that?”

Elisa drew a deep breath, her fists tightening and then loosening.

She had to come to terms with the fact that there was nothing she could do about Mr. Carrerra.

The place was teeming with people, making it all too easy for anyone there to become his hostage.

She didn't stand a chance against him.

Elisa lowered her gaze, lost in thought for a moment.

Mr. Carrerra displayed no sense of urgency, his gaze leisurely shifting between the two individuals.

“Very well,” Elisa consented, a response that prompted Mr. Carrerra to arch his eyebrows, seemingly

surprised by her quick agreement.

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Of course, he was also prepared for the possibility that Elisa might not agree.

In unconventional circumstances, unconventional methods were employed.

Mr. Carrerra patted his head and pointed toward the elevator. “Please go ahead.”

Elisa held Rachel's hand and walked past Mr. Carrerra.

The elevator, which was originally quite spacious, now seemed somewhat cramped.

Sensing that Rachel was slightly trembling, Elisa softly comforted, “It's okay. Don't worry, I'm here.”

That being said, Elisa herself wasn't very confident.

She was someone who seldom experienced regret.

She firmly believed that once a decision was reached, it was final.

Regret proved to be fruitless; time wouldn't rewind due to it, and the outcome wouldn't change.

Yet, at that moment, she genuinely lamented her oversight, the oversight of forgetting about such an

individual.

She regretted involving Rachel in Paul's matters.

I am too impatient. Mr. Carrerra is no saint; he's a lunatic, an absolute and utter lunatic! You can never

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predict the actions of a lunatic once they lose their sanity.

Elisa felt a chill go down her spine.

The elevator soon arrived at basement level two. Mr. Carrerra led the way, with the other two closely

trailing behind.

Then they arrived at a van. To be precise, two black extended vans.

Seeing Mr. Carrerra approaching, the people in one car immediately opened the door and stepped out.

All of them were men of towering stature, standing over one hundred and eighty centimeters tall,

individuals who had experienced life-and-death situations alongside Mr. Carrerra.

At a quick glance, there appeared to be almost ten people.

Suddenly, Elisa felt somewhat relieved that she hadn't impulsively chosen to resist earlier.

If not, could she and Rachel still emerge from this unharmed? Would they be compelled to enter the

van in their current upright stance, or would they be forcibly ushered into it?

More importantly, what sort of unforeseen catastrophe might befall the unsuspecting patrons in the café

they had just left?

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