From Heartbreak to Happily Ever After Novel

“Maybe.”

“Do you truly not know who killed my parents?”

Andrew hesitated, then shook his head, “I don’t.”

Debra helped Andrew to the car, and the driver got him in the backseat.

Debra’s mind was a whirlwind of questions and doubts. Sleep would be elusive tonight.

“Can you take me to our old house?”

“Address.”

Debra pulled out her phone and sent the address to Andrew, who relayed it to the driver.

“Drive.” Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Yes, sir.”

Tucked away in the heart of the city, it had been years since Debra last set foot there. According to family rules, visits were reserved for the New Year, and since her father’s passing, she had lived with Ralph.

The main estate that had only accommodated the older generations was a stranger to her now. The villa stood abandoned, its grandeur faded.

The night wind bit at her, and she wrapped Andrew’s coat tighter around herself. The yard was overgrown and neglected, but security was surprisingly tight.

Debra pushed Andrew’s wheelchair up to the door, pulling out an old, tightly wrapped key she always carried.

The house was a retro two–story villa, a century–old testament to a bygone era. After her grandfather moved out, the place had been left to gather dust, save for the ancestral shrine housed within.

“If I remember correctly, the shrine should be in the back house,” Debra murmured, following her memory.

The backyard was walled off, hiding a second house that was starkly different from the retro decor out front. This house was ancient, as if it had

stood for centuries.

“I never understood why we had such an old house,” Debra said. “My dad told me it had always been here. Our family was once prominent in Seamar City, with ancestors who were officials. I didn’t think much of it at the time.”

Andrew nodded. “Your ancestors were indeed officials. Your grandfather was a diligent learner and a remarkable strategist.”

Debra approached the house, her steps faltering as she saw the lock on the door.

“I don’t have the key.”

Andrew began to cough, his body wracking with the effort.

“Don’t panic. I don’t remember this door having a lock.”

“The shrine has been locked for years. The keys to the shrine and the main house were probably kept by your father. Think, Debra. Who might have the key?”

“Ralph?”

Ralph was in prison, his personal belongings likely seized. He hadn’t given her the key when she inherited the Frazier family.

“Probably. I’ll have my people check at the police station. They should be able to find it.”

“Maybe I should go myself. I need to ask him some questions.”