Crowned by the Man They Feared (Amelia and Jeremy) novel Chapter 695

695 /695

Truman!

Amelia couldn't believe it. Shocked to her core, she blurted out, "Truman? Why is it you?"

Jeremy's pupils contracted sharply, his grip on Amelia's hand tightening without him even realizing it.

Truman—the elder they had both respected, the man who had guided and helped Amelia more than once at critical moments.

How could he possibly be the mastermind behind all of this?

The usual warmth and kindness on his face had vanished. In its place was a calm, almost mocking composure.

As if this carefully orchestrated hunt were nothing more than a casual game to pass the time.

"Yes, it's me. I know you're surprised. But what can you do? This is reality now."

Truman spread his hands lightly. "You might as well accept it."

"Why? Why would you do something like this? At the institute, you're already respected and admired. Wasn't it enough to focus on developing medicine that could actually save people?"

Why stray down such a crooked path, chasing experiments that defied ethics and reason?

Amelia had already known, from the unsent message Raymond left behind, that he was the one pulling the strings.

But now, she was seeing him stand there in person, his face twisted with a cunning cruelty she had never witnessed before.

It was nothing like the gentle, benevolent mentor she remembered.

Whenever she argued with Walter, Truman had always been the first to step in and mediate, smiling warmly as he smoothed things over.

He had seemed so kind. So wise.

Was all of it an illusion?

Those earnest lectures. Those subtle hints of guidance. Even the quiet suggestions he'd offered when her research hit a dead end—were they all fake?

A chill shot from the soles of Amelia's feet straight to the top of her head. It felt like an icy hand had wrapped around her heart, squeezing so tightly that she could barely breathe.

She remembered the bowl of warm soup he'd brought her after she'd stayed up all night in the lab, and the lighthearted jokes they'd shared.

Every "kind" smile, every "wise" word now felt like poisoned needles, piercing her heart over and over until she could hardly stand it.

The contrast was dizzying. The deeper her past respect had been, the more absurd and painful this moment felt.

Is this who he really is?

How ironic.

"Of course, it wasn't enough. What's the point of being so noble? Being noble doesn't change much, and half the time, no one even sees your efforts.

"At PharmaCore 01, I was always under Walter's shadow. Every major decision had to go through layers of higher-ups—funny how they all seemed to be named Preston.