Exactly as Camilla had predicted, inside the Williams Group's executive office, the atmosphere was suffocating. Alongside Clement and Barnard stood several figures in lab coats—researchers who Camilla had never encountered.
The tension in the room was palpable, and Clement's expression was downright murderous.
His predatory gaze locked onto Barnard. "I thought you said your brilliant plan was foolproof. Care to explain how the cops tracked us down?"
"Logically speaking, nothing should have gone wrong," Barnard defended smoothly. "No one pays attention to those remote villages. It's perfectly normal for a few fishermen to die in storms every season. To be exposed this quickly... there has to be a mole."
"I know damn well there's a problem. I'm asking you for a solution, Barnard," Clement snapped. "Since you joined the company, I've treated you exceptionally well. You're not going to disappoint me this time, are you?"
Barnard's fingers dug into the armrests of his wheelchair, the veins in his forearms bulging. The glare off his glasses completely masked the dark, calculating look in his eyes.
One of the lab coat-clad researchers spoke up. "The priority is whether or not we can continue the trials. We're at a critical juncture. If we halt production now, everything we've invested goes down the drain."
Clement's icy stare shifted back to Barnard. "Dr. Gates asked a question, Barnard. You know how much blood and sweat I've poured into this project. I've handed the reigns entirely over to you. You're not going to let this fall apart, right?"
The underlying threat was clear: the fishing village pipeline was dead, and Barnard needed to secure fresh test subjects, immediately.
Barnard's face paled. From the very beginning, he knew he had made a deal with the devil. But he had crossed the point of no return.
Even if he tried to back out now, he knew far too many of the Williams Group's secrets. Clement would never let him walk away alive.
His only option was to ride this out to the bitter end.
"How long can the current subjects last?" Barnard asked flatly.
"Three days max," Dr. Gates replied. "We need fresh bodies by then."
The twisted experiment was designed to genetically alter human DNA using narcotics, cultivating highly addictive cells within the body. If successful, they could infect clean individuals with addiction simply through airborne transmission. Once the demand skyrocketed, the authorities would have no choice but to legalize the substances to control the chaos, leaving Clement's organization positioned to make billions.
Barnard's current residence, a luxurious modern villa, had been personally arranged by Clement.
Usually, it was just him, Davina, and a maid who came by daily to clean.
Given the highly illegal nature of his work, Barnard was relentlessly paranoid. He didn't even dare hire live-in help, opting instead for a service that handled chores and meals at specific hours.
He had kept his secrets air-tight. Not even Laura or Calvin had a clue what he was actually doing. So, when he rolled through his front door, he was stunned to find his parents sitting in his living room.
They had clearly just arrived and were busy admiring the high-end decor, while Davina hovered nearby, a sycophantic smile plastered on her face.
These were his parents, and he hadn't seen them in quite a while, yet their sudden appearance ignited a furious irritation in his chest.
"Mom, Dad," Barnard asked flatly. "What are you doing here?"

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