Chapter 253 - 252: Can the Fletcher Family Really Be Trusted?

Chapter 253: Chapter 252: Can the Fletcher Family Really Be Trusted?

My back ached so much I could barely stand up straight as we left the basement.

I glanced back at Asher. He guiltily avoided my eyes and whispered an explanation, "Cece, that mattress wasn’t great. I’ll have Owen Foster replace it."

"You’re the one who needs replacing," I said through clenched teeth.

Asher immediately grabbed my hand. "Nope. We’re certified. No returns, no exchanges."

I glanced down at his hand on mine but didn’t pull away, letting him lead me outside.

It had started raining, but we’d been completely oblivious in the basement.

I liked the feeling of being completely sealed off. It gave me a sense of security I’d never felt before.

It isolated me completely from the outside world, where I couldn’t tell day from night, rain from shine.

"Cece!" Julian Fletcher spotted me and ran over anxiously. "Are you all right?"

"Were you hoping something happened to me?" I asked, standing in the downpour while Asher held an umbrella over me.

Julian stood drenched in the rain, his eyes filled with sorrow. "I came to apologize... on Erin Whittaker’s behalf."

I scoffed. "On her behalf? What gives you the right to apologize for her?"

"Cece, why do you always twist my words? I just mean... I failed to keep an eye on her, and she almost hurt you. I’m sorry." Julian looked pained.

I said nothing, merely glancing up at the umbrella over my head.

’When Asher held an umbrella for me, he always tilted it in my direction. The Julian I remembered had never once held an umbrella for me.

He hadn’t just not held one for me; he’d even torn mine to shreds.

He knew I was terrified of thunderstorms, yet he deliberately used my greatest fear to punish me.

Even if it was to get ’revenge’ on my younger self.

It’s true what they say: affection that comes too late is cheaper than dirt.’

In the car, Erin Whittaker rolled down her window. Her face, already streaked with rain, was a mask of venom as she glared at me. Her pale complexion seemed etched with hatred.

I looked at her with pity. For the rest of her life, she would have to depend on Julian Fletcher’s ’conscience’ to survive.

"Julian, you’ll get sick standing in the rain," Erin Whittaker said, her voice hoarse, trying to get him into the car.

And yet, she didn’t get out of the car herself.

’Erin Whittaker was a selfish person, and her love was just as selfish. She was afraid that getting sick would aggravate her HIV, so she didn’t dare step out into the rain.

She was worried about Julian, but she was more worried about herself.’

"Cece, something’s happened to Victor Quinn. My lead has gone cold," Julian said, glancing at his car. In the passenger seat sat a young girl, her face deathly pale and her hair sopping wet.

’That must be the daughter Victor Quinn had with his second wife.’

"Every time I get close to finding something, someone sabotages the trail," Julian said, clenching his fists. "Victor Quinn had agreed to tell me everything he knew. Unfortunately..."

’Unfortunately, he’d been ’silenced.’

Victor Quinn wasn’t dead yet, but the chances of him ever waking up were slim. It was as good as being silenced.’

"What does his daughter know?" I asked, looking at the girl in the passenger seat.

’If she doesn’t know anything, getting dragged into this... would be very dangerous for her.

If the powers that be wanted to silence someone, they would surely eliminate all loose ends.’

"Lynn." Julian opened the car door and held an umbrella for the girl.

The girl wore a black dress, and her skin was an unnatural white.

As she stepped out of the car, her little leather shoe landed in a puddle. She recoiled as if frightened, yanking it back.

Only when she saw Julian beside her did she slowly place her foot back on the ground.

"She’s a high school senior, same age as Felix Foster, and she’s about to take her college entrance exams," Julian explained, then added in a low voice, "She has autism..."

’I’d already suspected as much. Her hesitation when getting out of the car showed her aversion to the outside world.

It’s a condition that usually presents in infancy or early childhood.’

"Victor Quinn’s first daughter had congenital cerebral palsy and I heard she passed away shortly after birth. His second daughter has autism... There must be something wrong with his genes, right?" I said grimly.

Julian nodded. "That’s why he worked for the Organization. He’s a victim of a genetic disorder himself. It’s difficult for him to have healthy children, so he..."

’I was starting to understand. Victor Quinn did all this because he wanted perfect genes to bypass his own genetic defects.’

"My dad... is a good person." The girl who had been silent finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper. She looked up at me timidly. "He was helping you..."

I frowned, looking at her.

From the small backpack she was clutching, the girl pulled out a photo album.

Inside was a photo of a young Victor Quinn with my parents.

"They were his classmates," the girl said, pointing at the people in the photo.

’So, ’Cecilia Caldwell’s’ parents were Victor Quinn’s classmates—top talents in the medical field and important members of the Genetics Organization.’

"They... were like-minded," the girl said, struggling with her words. "Later... they grew attached... to the test subject. They wanted to help her escape..."

The girl pointed to the picture of ’Cecilia Caldwell’ in the photo.

’I knew this already. My parents were part of the Organization, and I was just a test subject.

I knew they hadn’t loved me at first, that they’d only seen me as an object of research.

But I didn’t hate them. It seemed they eventually developed feelings for me, too.

They wanted to help me escape, but they died in that ’accidental’ car crash.

The people behind the Organization would never allow their test subject to escape. Disobedient employees had to be eliminated.

It was just as Killian Lancaster had said: as a ’test subject,’ ’I’ was far too valuable.

A test subject cultivated through an investment of hundreds of millions, perhaps even tens of billions. A breakthrough for both science and medicine.

And as a test subject, my intrinsic value already far exceeded their initial investment.

Capitalists care about one thing: return on investment.

Once they saw a successful result in me, I... I could generate endless wealth for them.’

"They... begged my dad... to protect you. To let you live... like a normal person," the girl said, her eyes welling with tears. She pointed at the photo of Cecilia Caldwell but kept her eyes on me.

’So, Cecilia Caldwell’s amnesia wasn’t a coincidence. Victor Quinn did it on purpose.’

"My dad entrusted you to the Fletcher family... because he trusted them," the girl said with a sob, each word a struggle.

’I knew she was trying her hardest to convince me that her father was a good man.

That her father trusted the Fletchers.’

Julian’s gaze burned into me. "Cece... my mother was your mother’s best friend. She was someone Victor Quinn could trust. You can trust me. Believe me..."

’He wanted me to trust him and Mrs. Fletcher.

But Killian Lancaster had told me the Fletchers were the last people I should trust.

Hah...’

"Miss..." The girl suddenly looked up, her eyes fixed on Asher behind me. She scrambled backward in fear, hiding behind Julian. "Don’t believe him. Don’t... believe him."

She clutched the hem of Julian’s shirt, her voice trembling. "Don’t believe him."

She seemed to be losing control, backing away ceaselessly in fear.

"Miss..." Suddenly, Lynn rushed forward and grabbed me. Her grip was surprisingly strong. She yanked me aside and, watching Asher warily, whispered in my ear.

"I’ve seen him before, with... with the bad people... I’ve seen him. A... researcher... from the Organization. They’re researching... eternal life. The link between the soul and genes. I saw it. I’ve seen him..."

Lynn didn’t look like she was lying. The look she gave Asher was one of pure terror. ℴ

I turned to look back at Asher. He stood rooted to the spot, a deep frown on his face as he watched the girl, Lynn. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

"Cece, don’t trust him," Julian urged, grabbing my wrist. "If there’s nothing suspicious about him, how was he so certain that you were Cecilia Caldwell? The experiment on the link between the soul and genes—so-called rebirth—that was a project he started researching back when he was in the program for gifted students."