?Chapter 385:


    “Mr. Scott, the surveince is toast. No entries, no exits recorded,” one of Dn’s subordinates reported.


    “No point digging deeper,” Dn replied tly. Seeing the pale-faced Christina resting on the bed had erased any lingering doubts. The “man” from the casino likely just bore a resemnce—nothing else.


    “Understood!” his subordinate replied.


    With that, Dn and his men pivoted and returned to the medical wing.


    By the time Christina stirred, daylight had given way to twilight. She blinked groggily, scanning the room, and the unfamiliar surroundings jolted her alert. Then, it clicked—this was Davina’s apartment. She recalled Dn had shown up to check on her before she’d dozed off. Initially, she’d only pretended to be asleep—but her body had given in for real. Now fully awake, the fog in her mind had clearedpletely.


    She cracked the door open to find Davina prepping ingredients in the kitchen.


    “You’re finally alive,” Davina said with a nce, juggling a handful of vegetables.


    “Yeah,” Christina mumbled mid-yawn. “Smells good in here.”


    Davina chuckled. “Didn’t want to wake the dead, so I let you be.” She looked over. “Eat with me before you vanish.”


    “Alright,” Christina replied, eyes catching the phone Davina had nudged across the counter. She picked it up and read the pre-typed text. “Dn seems to have dropped his suspicions about you, but stay sharp. None of them are easy to handle. They’re sneaky as hell.”


    Christina slid the phone back, giving a small nod. “Whoa, you made all my favorites?” she said with mock excitement.


    “Duh. I’m your number-one fan,” Davina teased, tossing her a wink. “Help me chop and I’ll make magic happen.”


    “You got it!” Christina replied, raising a yful thumb.


    Your escape begins at g?lnσν???s


    Davina’s food was on point. Not five-star like Dn’s, but miles ahead of Christina’s culinary chaos.


    The two bantered and cooked, the kitchen filled withughter that turned a simple task into something joyful.


    It was ten o’clock. Night air pressed against café windows.


    Christina sat opposite someone, her voice cutting like ss. “Spit it out. I’ve got better things to do.”


    Yvonne shed a charming grin and said, “Christina, take a moment and enjoy a mug of coffee. No rush—let’s ease into our discussion.”


    With that, Yvonne nudged the mug toward Christina, a glimmer of cunning flickering in her expression. When she had fetched the coffee earlier, she had covertly slipped in a little something. Otherwise, why would she have been so eager to wait at the counter just to personally hand over the mug of coffee to Christina?


    Christina nced downward, her eyes falling on the freshly served mug of coffee. Beneath the inviting fragrance lingered a faintly abnormal trace. As Noxin, her olfactory senses were far keener than most—what went undetected by others was often clear to her, especially when it came to chemical agents. She could identifypounds others wouldn’t even notice, especially those with sedative or stimting effects.


    .


    .


    .