<b>Chapter </b><b>236 </b>
I sat on the sofa in my temporary bedroom at Lawrence’s mansion, surrounded by the chemicalpounds Ethan had brought. Despite my blindness, I could sense his presence as he carefully arranged everything on the coffee table before me.
“Are you sure you don’t want Walter Morrison to help?” Ethan asked, his voice revealing his concern. “He’s just a call
away<b>.</b><b>” </b>
“I told you yesterday,” I replied, running my fingers over the various containers, “I’m extremely familiar with this particr toxin’s antidote. I’ve created it before.”
I could hear Ethan’s controlled breathing as he watched me identify each substance purely by touch and smell. My fingers traced the contours of each vial and container, mentally cataloging their contents.
“This one,” I said, picking up a small ss bottle, “needs to be mixed with exactly three milliliters of the clear solution in the rectangr container.”
Ethan’s hand brushed against mine as he took the bottle. “How can you tell which one is which?” he asked, the
admiration evident in his voice.
I allowed myself a small smile. “The toxin affects my optic nerves, not my other senses. Eachpound has a distinct texture and smell.” I demonstrated by picking up another vial. “This one has a slight grainy texture to the ss<b>–</b>manufacturing imperfection. And this one,” I held up a dropper bottle, “has a faint scent of ethanol that the
others don’t.”
Ethan worked silently beside me, following my instructions with precision. Every few moments, our hands would touch as he passed me items or I reached for the nextponent. His breathing changed subtly each time–slightly quickening before he controlled it again.
“Nervous?” I asked, as I carefully measured drops of a particrly vtilepound.
“Just focused,” he replied, his voice low. “I don’t want to make any mistakes when it matters most.”
The solution required careful mixing of several dangerouspounds. I guided Ethan through the process, exining each step.
‘Now we need tobine these two substances,” I instructed. “They’ll create a reaction that needs to be stopped at exactly the right moment with the stabilizing agent.”
“How will you know when?” Ethan asked, his voice closer now.
“The smell changes from bitter to sweet for exactly three seconds before it bes dangerous. That’s our window.”
We worked in tandem–his hands following my guidance, my other senses heightened in the absence of sight. When the final mixture wasplete, I held the ss containing the antidote, its warmth seeping into my palm.
“Bottom’s up,” I said, and drank the bitter liquid in one swift motion. It burned down my throat, spreading warmth through my chest.
“How does it taste?” Ethan asked.
I grimaced. “Like licking a battery while chewing aspirin.”
“Sorry I couldn’t share that experience with you,” he said, his tone lighter now.
“There’s always next time,” I replied with a smirk. “I’ll find plenty of opportunities for you to prove your worth.”
I could almost feel his gaze on me<b>, </b>studying, analyzing. The silence between us felt charged with unspoken
thoughts.
<b>“</b>What’s your rtionship with Lawrence,” Ethan began, breaking the silence.
I leaned back on the sofa. “I came here once before, ran into him, made a bet. We’re friends, loosely speaking.”
“And what did you win?” Ethan asked, curiosity evident in his voice.
“Crystal Vault–the jewelry store. There’s one in New York too. Heard of it?”
“Vaguely,” Ethan responded, surprise coloring his voice. “You won?”
“Mmm–hmm.”
“We should make a bet sometime,” Ethan suggested, his voice taking on a yful edge. “I have plenty to wager.”
“Like what?” I asked, intrigued.
“The Transcendent Military Alliance, Crimson Valley’s weapons depot–I think you’d appreciate both. And, well, what you mentionedst time.”
‘Last time?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to recall.
Instead of exining, Ethan added, “But I have one request–Connor doesn’t need to watch.”
Understanding dawned on me, and I couldn’t help but smirk. “Are you trying to win or lose this bet?”
“Winning would be losing, losing would be winning,” he replied smoothly.
“You’ve got a way with words,” I observed, impressed by his wordy.
Our conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door. Lawrence’s distinctive footsteps approached.
“How are you feeling?” Lawrence asked as he entered. His cat jumped onto the sofa beside me, its weight shifting the cushions. “I came to check on your progress and invite you both to dinner.”
“Just finished the antidote,” I replied, absently stroking the cat. “It’ll take a while to work.”
“Excellent,” Lawrence said. “Shall we dine, then? The chef has prepared something special.”
Ethan stood and gently took my arm. “Let me help you,” he offered, guiding me to my feet.
His touch was firm yet gentle as he led me through the mansion to the dining room. The smell of exquisitely prepared food greeted us–roasted meats, fresh herbs, and rich sauces.
“Table at your two o’clock,” Ethan murmured close to my ear, guiding me to my seat. “Chair pulled out for you.”
Throughout dinner, Ethan continued his attentive care–describing the location of each dish on my te, even peeling the shell from a prawn before cing it within easy reach of my fingers.
“You’re quite the caretaker, Mr. Haxton,” Lawrence observed, amusement in his voice. “Are you her friend or her
suitor?”
I felt Ethan shift beside me but maintained my focus on the food before me.
“Does it matter?” Ethan replied smoothly. “Whatever the oue, I’m here willingly.”
Lawrence chuckled. “I see.”
After dinner, Ethan helped me back to the living room. “Would you like me to check your social media? You
mentioned you were expecting messages.”
“Sure,” I handed him my phone. “Log in for me.”
The moment he logged in, the phone began buzzing continuously with notifications.
“Highlight reel, please,” I requested, settling into the sofa.
Ethan scrolled through the messages. “Max says he wants to see Zach. I’ve been meaning to check on him as well.”
‘Let’s go then,” I agreed.
With Ethan’s guidance and the Doberman leading the way, we made our way upstairs to Zach’s room. When we entered, I immediately sensed another presence.
<b>‘</b>Connor?” I asked, recognizing his cologne.
“He’s been keeping Zachpany,” Ethan exined.
“Max wants to video chat with you,” I told Zach.
“Not interested,” came Zach’s muffled reply, followed by the sound of nkets rustling. “There’s nothing to see.”
“Fine,” <b>I </b>shrugged, then addressed the dog at my feet. “Zach,e here boy. Max can see you instead.”
As I bent to pet the dog, I heard a disgruntled noise from the human Zach, buried somewhere in his nkets.
“That dog gets more attention than me,” he muttered, his voice still muffled but clearly displeased.
I smiled to myself as I continued petting the Doberman, waiting for the video call to connect.
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