Chapter 141

Chapter 141

"Her memory center is damaged," Isabella said grimly. "But it's not entirely from external trauma. That neuro-binding protein still in her system is actively suppressing signal transmission between synapses."

Finnian pulled up the comparative blood analysis data. "The concentration dropped by about seven percent from yesterday. At this metabolic rate, it'll drop to a level that won't interfere with normal memory in two weeks. But during those two weeks, she'll have recurring blackouts."

That afternoon, Isabella shut herself in the small second-floor room.

Lavinia's toxicology report and Victoria's blood test results were spread out before her, alongside several molecular structure diagrams pieced together from document fragments she'd brought out from the Kitayama Biotech Institute.

Her previous research direction had been correct.

She just needed to strip the modifying groups from the toxin's side chains while preserving the main chain structure, letting the body metabolize it naturally.

But the side chain structures of the two toxins had subtle differences—a single methyl group in a different position.

"If I inject her directly with the same antidote, the clearance efficiency would probably only be around forty percent." She wrote that number in her notebook.

Finnian pushed the door open and set an iced coffee beside her hand. "Harold emailed back. Of the enzyme preparations you requested, only Glory Biotech domestically can synthesize them, but Glory Biotech has had indirect equipment procurement dealings with the Kitayama Biotech Institute."

"Can we get the supplies?"

"Going through official research channels for approval would take a month."

Isabella took a sip of coffee. "Can the Radcliffe Group Biotech synthesize them?"

"They have the equipment, but they've never done this type of targeted enzyme-cutting reagent. At least two weeks for preliminary trials."

Isabella wrote down two dates in her notebook. "We'll run both tracks. Harold goes through official channels, while Radcliffe Biotech prepares simultaneously."

Radcliffe Biotech would need advance notice to fully open their resources.

She glanced at the time and pulled out her phone to send Alexander a message: [I need Radcliffe Biotech to reserve an experimental line for me. I need the first batch of trial products within two weeks...]

After sending the message, she set her phone on the desk.

Alexander didn't reply immediately. He must be in a meeting.

Late at night, at three a.m., Isabella sent out the encrypted email while rain drizzled outside the window.

The email contained four molecular structure comparison diagrams and a design proposal for the targeted cutting enzyme, split into three versions.

She didn't even shut down the computer before lying down.

A little after four, a message notification woke her. Harold replied: [Version B's enzyme-cutting site is superior, but synthesis difficulty is thirty percent higher. I can coordinate with that domestic lab. I'll handle the materials on my end, bypass the official channels.]

Below was a string of personal cell phone numbers.

Isabella took a screenshot and forwarded it to Alexander. [Have Radcliffe Biotech reserve an experimental line for me. First batch of trial products within two weeks.]

Four minutes later, he replied: [Already reserved. Contact person is Walter Huxley. Contact directly, use Radcliffe Group's green channel.]

On the fourth afternoon, the trial batch of targeted cutting enzyme arrived by air from overseas.

Walter's note was brief: [First two versions failed. Third version is at your marked concentration, activity meets standards.]

Isabella started in vitro testing as soon as she received the reagent.

She divided Lavinia's serum samples into three groups, injecting different concentrations of the cutting enzyme into each. The control group received no enzyme.

Finnian sat beside her, watching his watch, calling out numbers every fifteen minutes.

The first group's separation rate was under thirty-five percent. The second group showed accelerated shedding in the middle stage, approaching sixty percent. The third group showed the most obvious effect, with residual rate below five percent.

"Third group's concentration." Finnian scanned the identification number.

"Version B's recommended concentration. Same as my calculation." Isabella switched the microscope image to the large screen.

In the petri dish, at the axon terminals of the nerve cells, the tangled granular material was slowly dissociating, being consumed bit by bit by phagocytes. The cell membrane surface gradually smoothed out.

Octavia appeared at the partition door at some point, watching the entire process through the glass.

She said nothing, stood for a moment, then turned and left.

That evening, while organizing document fragments, Finnian casually entered "the Kitayama Biotech Institute" into the internal database for pattern matching. It returned an abbreviation.

Appearing in the approval signature sections of three different classified documents, the encrypted electronic signature code abbreviated to "Z.L."

Oscar spent two hours bypassing verification layers, finally landing on a proxy account—"Zero."

"Not a personal account." Oscar turned the screen toward the living room, the cursor stopping on a tree-structure diagram. "Trust fund, registered in Emberlyn. The underlying assets cover medical equipment companies and biotech labs in at least six countries. The Kitayama Biotech Institute is just one downstream node."

Isabella stood before the whiteboard, writing "Zero" into the question mark position at the center of the relationship diagram.

Six lines extended upward from it.

"Can we trace the funding source?" Octavia frowned.

Oscar shook his head. "Too many proxy layers, encryption is enterprise-grade."

"Right now I can only confirm this account is still active. Last fund transfer was two weeks ago, flowing to a procurement company in Maple Hill Township."

Finnian added, "The procurement company's legal representative is a cousin of Vincent's wife."

Zachary leaned against the sofa armrest, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. "So Vincent wasn't a formal employee of the Kitayama Biotech Institute. He was hired from the periphery by 'Zero' to run errands."

Isabella's eyes darkened slightly as she drew a question mark beside "Zero" on the whiteboard.

This account was hidden in Emberlyn. Even Oscar could only trace to the surface layer.

That meant whoever was behind it was deeply concealed, with an extremely capable hacker helping them.

But since the account was still moving funds, it meant neither the Kitayama Biotech Institute nor Crestview Medical Clinic had been abandoned...

Alexander's plane landed at three a.m.

Isabella parked at the arrivals exit curb, window half-rolled down.

When the glass doors of the exit swung open, she spotted him immediately.

Alexander wore a black overcoat, unbuttoned, over a dark gray shirt. He carried a duffel bag in one hand and wheeled a black suitcase with the other as he emerged.

The next instant, their eyes met.

Alexander's stern features softened abruptly. He crossed the barrier and walked to the car, opening the door and bending down to get in.

Before Isabella could speak, he reached out and pulled her entire body into his embrace, arms wrapped tight. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not anymore. Everything finished on your end?" The corner of Isabella's mouth curved up.

"Yeah, everything that needed signing is signed." Alexander released her and leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes briefly. "Barely slept in thirty-six hours."

To get to Zephyria to see her sooner, he'd been working like crazy this whole time.

Finally, he'd carved out a stretch of time off to focus entirely on being with her.

"Let's go back to the safe house first. Get some sleep."

Alexander opened his eyes and looked at her, asking in a low voice, "Have you checked out those thermal sensors on the Maple Hill Township side?"