Dear Ex-wife Marry Me

He took a glance and found no abnormality; then he asked Sarah aside, “Any idea when we'll have the antidote ready?”

“If we're lucky, three months. If not, it could take up to six,” Sarah glanced at the monitors, her brow furrowed in concentration as the data danced before her eyes.

Fitch asked in concern, "Is there a problem?"

"No. Could you just hand me that vial, please? I want to run some checks."

Almost reflexively, he reached for the bottle she was pointing at. Inside was a green liquid. He saw that Sarah moved to another terminal, and the vial in his hand unexpectedly exploded.

He was unharmed, but his nose wrinkled at the acrid smell that filled the air. He glanced down at the shards in his hand and then looked up, his vision blurring.

Sarah walked over, helping him lie down as she peeled his eyelids back for a quick examination. Turning to the person beside her, she said, "We're good to go."

The other figure removed their protective helmet, revealing a face Fitch recognized instantly: Queena.

Queena grabbed a syringe from nearby and administered a shot into Fitch's arm. Together with Sarah, they shifted Fitch onto an adjacent empty bed.

Fitch's vitals flickered across the central monitor, as the system ran diagnostics. There was a string of numbers dancing on the screen.

"Test complete. Match success, match success."

Fitch's data had been collected by Bernard years ago; he had his eye on this physical specimen for a long time.

With impassive faces, Sarah reviewed the cascading numbers.

"Compile the data and analyze it. If everything checks out, we'll proceed with the experiment tomorrow night."

"Understood." Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

Queena was fulfilling the mission, though her gaze lingered on Fitch with an unmistakable yearning. She was still smitten with him, poisoned by a love that made her want to abandon everything. She could spend her life just watching him, even if he were to lie in a coma forever.

As the cold liquid from the syringe spread through Fitch's body, his world began to swirl into chaos. He was vaguely aware of muffled voices around him but couldn't make out the words.

Sarah was on the phone with Bernard, confirming that the preparations were complete. Bernard, meanwhile, was inspecting a cryogenic chamber, stroking it gently before giving it a soft pat.

"This is good. Patric's arrival has filled in the gaps in our data. What's the success rate now?"

"Seventy percent."

That was more than Bernard had dared to hope for. He massaged his temples, "Let's begin tomorrow night. I've uploaded all the necessary data from my son."

"Roger that."

Sarah hung up and continued her work.

On the other side, as soon as Fitch had entered the facility, Maja was informed. She was baffled. Why would Fitch go to Ian's place at such a critical time?

She turned to Nana, "Ask your brother if he can still monitor Fitch after he entered?"

"No, it's one-way glass. We can't see inside from here. But it's been two hours, and Fitch hasn't come out."

Just when Maja was about to probe further, someone burst into the room, panic-stricken.

"There's a new warrant out. But now it's Ian they're after. Some of the higher-ups found out he is the one who’s been sabotaging the project while they were investigating Bernard. They're transferring him to the most remote prison. Bernard's been punished for this also; he’s been stripped of his ranks and barred from upper management as punishment."

Maja caught her breath, slowly standing up, "Sent to the most remote prison? What does that mean?"