Chapter 186: Conspiracy
The conversation was far too sensitive for a public space, so they met in a private room at a quiet coffee shop. Once inside, Marigold’s eyes darted around anxiously, taking in the dimly lit, secluded surroundings. Ambrose, however, appeared calm, as if the meeting held no weight for him at all.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Marigold,” he said with a reassuring tone. “The surveillance in this coffee shop and the surrounding area for several kilometers is down today. If we don’t tell anyone, no one will know we ever met.”
Marigold remained wary, her suspicion clear. “Why all this secrecy? What exactly do you want to discuss?”
Ambrose didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a leisurely sip of his coffee, savoring it as though the situation were nothing more than a casual chat.
“I know about your past with Stellan Storm,” he began slowly. “And I’m aware of the trouble you’re in now. I have my own issues, and I believe that if we cooperate, we can solve both of our problems.”
The words struck Marigold like a cold gust of wind. Her heart raced, her breath quickening. “How do you know about my past with Stellan Storm? Did Stellan tell you?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.
Ambrose’s expression remained unreadable as he answered, “I guessed.”
“You guessed?” Marigold’s disbelief was palpable, her eyes narrowing.
“Of course,” he replied. “I’m Stellan’s ex-boyfriend, not her current one. How could she have told me anything? When I came back to find Stellan, I learned she had already passed away. Then I saw her again—this time with two children and a different name.”
Ambrose leaned forward slightly, his voice softening. “I saw Caspian, and he looks exactly like Harry. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together.”
Marigold was momentarily speechless. It was true—Ambrose had pieced together the puzzle with remarkable clarity.
“So now that you understand everything, what’s your proposal?” Marigold’s voice was colder now, though a thread of desperation lingered in her words.
Ambrose didn’t hesitate. “Mrs. Marigold, I know you want your children back—not Stellan. But me? I only want Stellan. If we cooperate, we can both get exactly what we want. A win-win, wouldn’t you say?”
Marigold’s gaze was sharp, filled with skepticism. “Easy for you to say. You’re just Stellan’s ex. Do you really think she’d ever reconcile with you?” Her eyes hardened with pride and disdain. “And besides, any fool would choose Alaric over you. How could you possibly compare?”
Ambrose’s fist clenched under the table, his frustration barely contained. He couldn’t compare to Alaric? Alaric was nothing but a sickly child—Ambrose was superior in every way. But he didn’t voice these thoughts. Instead, he smiled wryly and leaned back in his chair.
“I came here today with a solution to help you solve your problems, Mrs. Marigold,” he said smoothly. “But it seems you don’t believe me. So maybe it’s better to just forget this meeting entirely. Pretend I was never here.”
As he rose to leave, Marigold’s hand shot out to stop him. Her earlier confidence crumbled. She was backed into a corner, and she couldn’t think of another solution. Since Ambrose had claimed to offer a way out, she felt she had no choice but to listen.
“Wait,” she said quickly. “What solution do you have? Tell me first.”
Ambrose paused, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he sat back down, clearly pleased with her change of heart.
Back at Nexus Innovations, Galatea returned to find Alaric still engrossed in his work. She couldn’t help but notice the upbeat energy he had today, a stark contrast to his usual tired demeanor. Well, let’s keep him busy for now, Galatea thought, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt.
She retreated to the lounge, where the quiet environment always prompted deep reflection. Sitting down, she reopened the post she had anonymously made to find Marigold Rogers. There had been some progress at first, but now everything seemed to have stalled.
“My son, you must wait for Mommy. Mommy will find you,” she whispered softly to herself, the words heavy with longing.
Just then, her phone rang, snapping her out of her reverie. It was Josep.
“Hello, Josep Watkins,” she answered.
“Galatea, did you use the treatment plan I showed you on your friend?” Josep’s voice was clinical, yet warm.
“I did,” Galatea replied. “He had the first injection, but it knocked him out for two days. He’s scheduled for the second one tomorrow.”
Galatea had considered calling Josep but hesitated, not wanting to trouble him. Since he had reached out first, she decided to update him.
“Has he had any other reactions?” Josep asked.
Galatea sighed. “Yes, he had a strong reaction. But the second dose is coming up, so I’m hopeful it’ll be better.”
“Good,” Josep replied. “Now, I have something new to share. Our institute has been researching a capsule that may help your friend’s condition. We’ve just completed a rat experiment, and while there are some tweaks to be made, it’s promising.”
Galatea’s interest piqued. “Really? A capsule that could cure him? When will it be ready?”
Josep chuckled softly. “It’s not that simple. This capsule is meant for complex conditions, and while the experiment shows promise, it still needs adjustments. Developing it won’t be quick.”
Galatea felt her excitement dim slightly. She understood all too well how long the development of a new drug could take. The risks of failure were high, and every small misstep could ruin everything.
“Are you telling me this just to give me hope and then take it away?” she asked, her voice tinged with frustration.
“Blame me all you want,” Josep replied with a teasing tone. “I’m calling to let you know what’s coming. We’ve sent over the formula for the capsule, and I know you have your clinic now. Setting up a lab won’t be difficult for you. I’m confident you can figure out the adjustments with the ingredients.”
“Me?” Galatea said, unsure. “I’m not sure I can do it alone.”
“Galatea,” Josep said, his voice turning serious. “You were the top graduate of the American Medical Research Institute, the best in nearly twenty years. You can do this. Your friend’s recovery depends on you.”
Galatea felt the weight of his words settle on her shoulders. There was no turning back now.
Josep continued, “Until the research is successful, continue with his current treatment regimen.”
“I understand,” she replied softly.
After the call ended, Galatea immediately began her research. The formula Josep had sent buzzed in her mind as she sifted through it, analyzing the complex ingredients. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t even notice Alaric quietly entering the room behind her.