Crowned by the Man They Feared (Amelia and Jeremy) novel Chapter 707

Harrison raised an eyebrow and softened his footsteps, deciding not to interrupt this rare moment of girl talk. He turned back toward the living room to catch up on company emails.

"Don't worry about it," Amelia said over the phone, laughing. She knew exactly how to soothe her friend's ego. "Who's to say who got the better end of the deal? Maybe you're the one who played him."

Josie immediately felt her confidence return. "Exactly! I think I'm the one who conquered him. I was the one who seduced him first, after all."

They chatted for a few more minutes before Josie hung up, ready to head to work with the man she'd once sworn to ignore. The thought of them as a couple, working together and coming home together every day, actually sounded perfect. She wasn't worried about getting tired of him. Not even a little bit.

With the truth about Truman and the secret labs finally out, the Nygard Group had stabilized. Elian had returned from abroad to help manage the headquarters, and with him, Josie, and Harrison at the helm, the company was in excellent hands. Supported by a team of elite professionals, Amelia finally felt she could step back and let the company run itself.

She spent most of her time now in Walter's lab, working with Whitney and the rest of the team to reverse-engineer the formulas Raymond had left behind.

Their goal was to produce enough serum to help the victims Truman had experimented on. Some of the victims were recovering well with simple rest, but others had endured years of genetic tampering, bone marrow extractions, and constant injections. For them, the side effects were a living nightmare.

The new serum was designed to mitigate and eventually heal that damage. Early trials were promising, and most patients showed significant improvement. The exceptions were the severe cases, the ones for whom the window for treatment had long since closed.

Regina, however, was one of the few beyond help.

She was a ghost of her former self. Her eyes were sunken, her hair and teeth were gone, and her face looked like that of an 80-year-old woman.

She was little more than skin stretched over bone, her flesh as dry and cracked as old bark. She was one of the rare severe cases, past saving. There were days she wished it would simply end, and days the wish felt less like despair than like plain good sense. Either way, the countdown had already begun.

Technically, as Truman's accomplice, she should have been serving a prison sentence alongside Esmond. But the police saw her condition and realized she didn't have much time left. Locking her up would just be a waste of resources, so they left her to her own devices. No one pitied her. Her relatives and friends had long since scrubbed her from their lives.

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