Chapter 6
Diana was pushed out of the central chamber. The airtight door slammed shut behind her.
She stood outside, staring at the sealed door. The blankness on her face gradually gave way to fury. "What does she think she's doing?"
Diana whirled around, glaring at Dwight's disappearing figure behind the door. "What kind of spell did she cast on Mr. Mitchell? Why would he listen to her?"
No one answered.
Diana stormed up to the director, her voice shrill. "Are you blind? Didn't you see that? Dwight—someone of his status—calling her 'boss'? Who the hell does she think she is!"
The director opened his mouth to speak, but she shoved him aside.
Diana turned to the researchers, then to Flynn, the sponsor cowering in the corner. Her eyes were bloodshot, her voice trembling. "Can't you see? That woman must have used some trick to seduce Mr. Mitchell! Otherwise, why would he be so obedient?"
Flynn's expression shifted repeatedly.
He recalled how respectful Dwight had been toward Lucinda, and doubt began to creep in.
Diana was right. Who was Dwight?
A special-grade researcher from headquarters. A heavyweight in biomedicine. Everyone treated him with respect.
How could he possibly obey a young woman like that?
Unless their relationship wasn't simple!
"They've lost their minds..." Flynn muttered, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. "That's the central chamber! Don't they know what kind of viruses are in there? Just barging in like that—who takes responsibility if something goes wrong?"
He jerked his head up to look at the director, panic barely contained in his voice. "If our Mr. Barney Lancaster dies in there, not one of you will escape! Don't you know Mr. Reginald Lancaster's temper? The business world's Grim Reaper—you think that's an empty title? His uncle dying in your facility—imagine what happens to you!"
The director's face went white.
Reginald.
That name stabbed into his heart like a blade.
Last year, a company offended the Lancaster Group. Within three days, it declared bankruptcy and the owner jumped to his death.
The year before, a Starlight City project had complications. One word from Reginald and the entire team was blacklisted from the industry. No one dared hire them since.
If he got angry here...
"Stop talking nonsense! My father will be fine!" Diana's eyes were red-rimmed, but her voice shook. "My cousin is on his way! When he gets here, I'll see how that woman dies! I'll have him say one word and make her disappear from this industry completely!"
She charged toward the airtight door, but Elowen stepped in front of her, arms spread to block the way.
Diana glared at her. "You want to die?"
Elowen's eyes were still red, but her back was ramrod straight. "My mentor is inside saving someone. No one can disturb her."
Diana laughed coldly. "Your mentor—what is she? If she kills my father, can you take responsibility? Do you know who my cousin is? One word from him and he can shut down this entire institute!"
Elowen's voice was firm. "She won't. I know my mentor's capabilities."
Diana froze. The researchers who'd begun to panic also froze.
They looked at Elowen's young face, a strange feeling welling up inside them. But quickly, that feeling was crushed by another name.
"Reginald is really coming..." a young researcher murmured, face pale.
The name "Reginald" sent chills down spines more than any threat.
Flynn's expression grew uglier. He stared at the sealed airtight door, voice trembling. "If Mr. Lancaster gets angry, every last one of us is done for..."
Inside the central chamber, Lucinda stood at the control console, her slender fingers dancing across the keyboard almost too fast to see.
Dwight stood beside her, barely daring to breathe.
On the screen, data cascaded down like a waterfall.
In the isolation chamber, the mechanical arm moved with precision—drawing blood, testing, preparing medication, injecting. Each step flowed seamlessly, startlingly smooth.
Dwight's gaze fell on those hands.
Those hands that looked so delicate were now moving at an incredible speed, every finger landing exactly where it should.
He'd spent eight years at headquarters and seen countless top experts. But none could execute operations like his boss did.
On the screen, Barney's vital signs were slowly climbing.
Indescribable shock welled up in Dwight's chest.
He'd studied HSV viruses for eight years. When he saw the data outside earlier, only one thought filled his mind—it's too late.
Signs of brain damage had already appeared. Conventional methods couldn't catch up in time.
But his boss had reversed all the indicators in just a few minutes.
Lucinda turned her head and told Dwight to monitor the data from line 3.
Dwight hurried to another control console, staring intently at the screen.
From the corner of his eye, he saw his boss lower her head and continue typing, those hands still so fast, so steady, so precise.
Dwight looked away, thinking silently—even if he practiced another ten years, he couldn't match this technique.
Outside the central chamber, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense.
Diana pressed against the glass window, pounding with both hands, her voice sharp and grating.
Lucinda ignored her, her hands continuing their steady rhythm.
"Are you deaf?" Diana's eyes were bloodshot, her voice trembling. "I'm telling you—if anything happens to my father, you'll kneel before me and beg forgiveness! You'll never recover for the rest of your life! My cousin won't let you off—he'll make you wish you were dead!"
Flynn, behind her, chimed in. "Ms. Lancaster is right. We can't let them act so recklessly! If Mr. Lancaster dies in there, none of us can bear the responsibility!"
The researchers who'd been standing behind Elowen began to look uncertain.
They glanced at the sealed airtight door, then at Diana's nearly twisted face. Doubt crept in.
Reginald...
That name pressed down on everyone's hearts like a mountain.
Suddenly, someone cried out in surprise. Everyone turned simultaneously toward the glass window.
Inside the central chamber, Lucinda still stood at the control console, those hands still moving.
But now, her gaze had shifted to another direction—toward the malfunctioning low-temperature centrifuge.
Her fingers continued typing on the keyboard, but her eyes had turned toward that equipment.
"What's she doing?" someone murmured.
The next second, everyone saw it.
Lucinda operated the keyboard with one hand while speaking.
Dwight, standing beside her, immediately nodded and hurried to the centrifuge, crouching down to inspect it.
Controlling treatment while directing repairs.
Simultaneously.
The monitoring room fell silent.
"That's... that's impossible!" The young researcher's eyes widened. "Is she multitasking? Mixing reagents while directing repairs?"
"And look—" Another researcher pointed at the screen, voice trembling. "Her operations haven't stopped! The commands are still being input! How is she doing this?"
Mixing reagents required extremely precise operation. One wrong move and everything would be ruined.
Repairing that equipment was even more difficult—it was the Lancaster Group's medical flagship product, with internal structures so complex even these professionals found them headache-inducing.
Yet she was performing the most delicate operations while directing the most complex repairs—simultaneously.
Flynn's expression changed repeatedly. He stared at that cool figure through the glass window, his throat suddenly dry.
Diana froze too.
But in an instant, the shock on her face was replaced by deeper mockery. "What are you all so excited about?"
She laughed coldly. "What's so hard to guess? Mr. Mitchell must be directing her! A young girl like her—what does she know about operations? She's just pressing buttons randomly. Mr. Mitchell is the one really doing the work!"
She turned back to stare through the glass window, her voice growing shriller. "Keep up the act! When my cousin gets here, I'll see how you keep pretending! I'll have him say one word and make you disappear from this industry completely! Make you kneel before me and beg for mercy!"
Her words had barely fallen when footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.
Light. Steady. Yet carrying an indescribable sense of oppression, as if treading on everyone's hearts.
Everyone froze simultaneously.
No one dared turn around.
The footsteps drew closer, one after another, unhurried, yet making the air in the corridor congeal.
At the end of the corridor, a man walked slowly forward.
He wore a long black overcoat, its hem swaying gently with his stride.
His tall, upright figure radiated the aura of someone who'd long occupied positions of power.
His gaze traveled past everyone and landed on that cool figure through the glass window. No emotion showed in his eyes.
The corridor fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.
No one spoke. No one even dared breathe.
Reginald.
The world's richest man. The business world's Grim Reaper.
He had arrived.