Dear Ex-wife Marry Me novel (Maja) novel Chapter 1780

It was beyond their comprehension how Yvonne, such a bright and promising child, could be taken from this world so soon. It was a tragedy when the old must bury the young.

The room was thick with tension, all eyes fixed on Leonard after his somber declaration. His gaze was affixed to the stack of papers before him as he closed his eyes, "Investigate. If it's really him, there will be no mercy."

Clearly, among those present, Leonard's word was law. His directive left no room for doubt, and action was swiftly undertaken as the higher-ups began to coordinate their next move.

Night had already enveloped the sky.

When Maja awoke, she found herself lying in a bed, her eyes able to move, but the rest of her body was numb and unresponsive.

The space in front of her was whitewashed; seemed like she was encased in a hibernation chamber.

She blinked but couldn’t discern anything, only a small glass pane above her through which she could glimpse the ceiling outside.

Outside the chamber, Sarah monitored the flickering streams of data with a steely detachment. Her fingers danced across the screen, glancing at Fitch, who had been wheeled out earlier. His trial run had been the first, and now, his body's vitals were peaking, ready for the next phase.

Sarah kept a vigilant watch over the remaining data, fearful of any mishap. She also made a call to Bernard.

"Mr. March, care to witness the proceedings? By tomorrow evening, Fitch's experiment should be complete. Give it an hour, and you'll see your son slowly come to. Then it's Maja's turn. If all goes well, by eleven at night. Will you not come to see?"

After years of preparation, could he resist the chance to see it with his own eyes?

Bernard's breathing grew heavy, his nervousness palpable, "Two in the afternoon, I'll come by. Sarah, you're sure there's a seventy-percent success rate?"

"I wouldn't deceive you, Mr. March."

Bernard exhaled in relief. He gazed out at the darkening sky, contemplating the lonely night - perhaps his last alone.