Skip to content
Novel Catalog
Chapter_196
After receiving a direct confirmation from Yvette, Flying Fish stood frozen, her mind reeling. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her thoughts before speaking. “Boss, Silas is the head of the top medical lab in Mysonna. How on earth did you manage to have him lower his status and personally deliver the antidote to Charles at my apartment? This is unbelievable!”
Meanwhile, Yvette, now dressed in a casual white tracksuit and canvas shoes, adjusted her black baseball cap and tied her hair into a quick ponytail. Her look was effortlessly androgynous, cool, and composed.
As she tied her hair, Yvette’s fingers paused slightly before she picked up a small hair tie from the table and secured her ponytail. She glanced at her phone and replied with indifference, “I’m heading over now.”
On the other side of town, Silas Walson—despite being 60—looked as youthful as someone in his forties. His hair was perfectly styled, and his eyes shone with a sharp, energetic gleam. He checked his wristwatch and noted that ten minutes had passed since the door had closed. His demeanor remained entirely composed, showing no signs of impatience.
The door creaked open once more. Silas, as polite and gentlemanly as ever, stood there and greeted Flying Fish. “Hello, Miss. Sorry to bother you. I’ve come to deliver the antidote for Mr. Jameson, the No.7 Toxin.”
Flying Fish had already changed into casual clothes by this time, and though she had been caught off guard by Silas’s arrival, she quickly regained her composure. She had firsthand experience with Silas’s temperament when she had worked as an undercover maid in his house—he had a strict, no-nonsense approach.
Despite this, his calm and polite manner was enough to rattle her nerves. Ten minutes of waiting, and he doesn’t even seem bothered. Terrifying, she thought, before quickly shifting aside and extending her hand with a polite smile.
“Hello, Mr. Walson. Please come in,” Flying Fish said, trying to keep the situation under control.
Silas smiled slightly as he stepped inside. His sharp eyes immediately noticed a small, unique trinket in the entryway—one of the more expensive items from the last West Auction House, sold for 3.3 million dollars. He glanced at it for a moment, intrigued by the display.
An impressive gesture, he thought, but he didn’t linger on the observation. His polished manners kept him focused as he walked toward the couch and sat down, maintaining his composed stature.
Flying Fish, still wary, followed behind him, noting how his gaze had briefly lingered on the trinket. Why is he so interested in such a simple object? she wondered. Her instincts as an assassin kept her sharp and alert, noticing every detail.
The atmosphere between them was strained and awkward. Silas sat upright on the couch, a glass of water in front of him, and Flying Fish sat opposite, determined not to make eye contact with him. She couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite his courteous exterior, Silas might see through her.
Silas broke the silence first, his voice steady and neutral. “Ms. Fish, could you tell me where the patient is? I can administer the antidote to him immediately.”
Flying Fish’s eyebrow twitched involuntarily at his use of her name. Ms. Fish? she thought, but quickly masked her irritation. She looked at the black suitcase by Silas’s side, guessing it contained the antidote.
“Well, Charles is in the next room. Let me take you to him,” Flying Fish replied.
Silas nodded, but there was an air of disappointment about him. He had come in person, expecting to meet Yvette, but now he just wanted to get the task over with and leave. His desire to meet her had slowly dissipated in favor of focusing on his work.
Flying Fish, sensing the shift in Silas’s mood, was equally eager to finish up. She led him into the next room where Charles lay on the bed. His excitement was palpable, despite his inability to move.
Could I really get my life back? Charles thought, his mind racing as he heard the faint sounds from outside the door.
“Come in,” Charles whispered, barely able to speak.
When he saw who entered the room, his eyes widened in shock. It’s Silas Walson! he thought. The famed director of Mysonna’s most prestigious medical lab—someone who had been nearly impossible to get an audience with, even for powerful families like the Goodman family.
Charles had heard the rumors, the stories about Silas’s coldness toward anyone who didn’t meet his standards. Even Braydon had failed to win him over. But here he was, standing in front of him.
The mere presence of Silas was enough to surprise both Flying Fish and Charles. If even I’m stunned, then it must be a big deal, Flying Fish thought.
“Hello, Mr. Walson,” Charles said, struggling to get the words out. The effort was immense, but he was determined to speak.
Silas gave a slight smile, recognizing Charles’s strength. “Mr. Jameson, I’ve heard of you. To endure the effects of No.7 Toxin for this long is quite remarkable,” he said with respect.
Charles, still struggling, managed to say, “Thank you.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it held deep gratitude.
Without wasting time, Silas set down the black suitcase and opened it. He took out a syringe filled with a glowing, light blue liquid and proceeded to inject it into Charles’s left arm.
As the liquid entered his body, Charles’s vision began to clear. His fingers twitched, and the numbness in his body started to dissipate.
Silas watched carefully, knowing the antidote’s effects would take some time to fully take hold. “Mr. Jameson, don’t rush it. In about an hour, your bodily functions will return to normal. Two hours at most, and you should be back to full strength.”
Charles, his heart swelling with hope, nodded slowly. I thought I was done for… but Yvette, she saved me. He felt like a weight was lifting off his chest.
As Silas turned to leave, he paused at the door and looked back at Flying Fish, who was following him. His gaze lingered, an air of curiosity in his eyes.
Flying Fish felt a chill run down her spine as Silas’s sharp gaze met hers. She forced herself to smile, making herself appear casual and unbothered.
“What’s going on, Mr. Walson?” she asked, her voice dripping with faux innocence. “Is there something on my face?”
Just as Silas opened his mouth to respond, Flying Fish cut him off with a grin. “Oh, you don’t need to say it. It’s just something called beauty. A lot of people mention it.”
For a moment, Silas was caught off guard by her audacity. It wasn’t often that someone so boldly flattered themselves in his presence. His expression softened, but he quickly regained his composure.
“Well, I’ll take my leave now, Miss Fish. Take care,” he said, his usual demeanor returning.
Flying Fish smiled playfully, watching him leave. What was that about? she thought, but there was no time to dwell on it. Charles was getting better, and that was all that mattered for now.
As she closed the door behind Silas, she let out a sigh, feeling the tension release. Her work wasn’t done yet, but for today, she had a victory to savor.
