Wilona had not seen anyone in the villa with a gun before, and now that the shots rang out, she felt completely unsafe. Frederick shook his head. "In this situation? Where am I supposed to get a gun?" Wilona's face went even paler. "Then what do we do? I'm so scared." Then, as if she remembered something, she whispered, "Babe, do you think your ex-wife hired those fake cops?" Frederick said firmly, "No. We've been divorced in secret for a while, and she's fine with the property division. Why would she hire assassins?" Wilona hesitated. "But ... you two divorced because she found out about me ... " Frederick cut her off. "Even so, no. A disaster's happening now. She's in another country. How could she possibly send someone all this way to hurt me?" Wilona tried to say more, but Frederick snapped, "Enough! Don't blame everything on my ex. She's a decent person; she wouldn't do something like this." Wilona pouted. "Then what about those three fake cops?" Frederick groaned. "Who cares about them? We just stay home and avoid trouble." Wilona was still worried. "But what if they come after us? These windows won't stop bullets." Frederick rolled his eyes. "You think everyone's as idle as you?" He added impatiently, "Aren't you supposed to be the seductress in your circle? There's a man among the fake cops. If you're really scared, go deal with him." Wilona froze for a second, then said coquettishly, "What are you saying? Right now, my heart and eyes are only on you ... " She nuzzled softly into Frederick's arms. Frederick held her close. "Stop overthinking. If they wanted to kill us, they would've done it yesterday. Since they didn't, they're not psychotic murderers. As long as we don't provoke them, nothing will happen." Wilona curled up weakly in his arms. "I understand." A glint flashed in her lowered eyes. Meanwhile, the Bolton mother and daughter were still parading through the villa area with injuries. At the dining table, Jacob, Rosalie, and Lillian were distracted by the noise outside. Jacob frowned. "Gunshots? How did that happen?" Lillian said, "From the shouting outside ... it sounds like Isabelle ... " She got up. "Babe, keep eating. I'll check it out." Jacob nodded. "Be careful." Rosalie, curious, followed them. They reached the yard and stood at the gate, just in time to see Isabelle holding her wound as she passed by. Rosalie exclaimed in shock, "Mrs. Bolton! What happened to you?" Isabelle glanced back, saw that Natalie's house was out of sight, and whispered, "We offended the new tenant, and now she is using me as a warning." Lillian stared at the gunshot wound. "New tenant? How is she so bold?" Isabelle looked at Lillian's beautiful face, and the words "Natalie" almost slipped out, but she swallowed them. This imposter looks better kept up than me—the actual rich lady. Jealousy rose in Isabelle's heart. Lillian's just a village bumpkin climbing up as a mistress, yet she seems so comfortable compared to Isabelle, the real wealthy wife.Her face had sagged in the past two years since she could not go out for beauty treatments, but Lillian still looked fine. Well, without looks, how could she rise? Isabelle snorted, then thought, Natalie's clearly the enemy of Lillian and her daughter. Surely I shouldn't be the only one suffering with Saniya. She rolled her eyes and did not warn them about Natalie returning. She replied perfunctorily, "Just a girl living alone with a gun ... I'd better get this over with and go home to dress my wound." Lillian and Rosalie frowned as they watched Isabelle parade away. Rosalie looked anxious. "Mom, will our area stop being safe?" Lillian frowned. "Safety was never guaranteed. The fact it's stayed calm this long is already lucky." She sighed. "Eventually, this villa area will be chaotic." Rosalie's heart raced. "Then what should we do?" Lillian thought for a moment. "Cling to the strong." Rosalie blinked. "Cling to whom?" Lillian glanced in the direction Isabelle had gone. "Whichever one's stronger." Rosalie finally understood. "You mean the new tenant?" Lillian nodded. "According to Isabelle, she's young. So she would be easier to approach ... " She paused, then instructed, "Tomorrow, I'll make some cakes. Take them over as a friendly gesture. Between young girls, building friendship is easier." Rosalie hesitated. "Mom, didn't you hear the gunshots? I'm not going."