The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 1197

Genetic mutation research...

As Damaris thought about finally getting her hands on the antidote and fulfilling her late husband’s last wish, a small smile tugged at her lips. Her eyes shone with something close to happiness.

Her assistant caught the shift in her expression and couldn’t help but glance over. That smile was hard to look at, almost unsettling.

They had finally found the last ingredient needed for the antidote. Logically, Damaris should be thrilled that Mr. Churchill might finally have a chance at survival. Yet her first instinct was to focus on the mutation research instead.

But then again, if Damaris had truly cared about her son, she never would have let Mr. Churchill volunteer for the drug trial in the first place. If it weren’t for her, none of this would have happened.

“Damaris, should we let Mr. Churchill know?” the assistant asked, voice careful. “The person is in Novaria. It might be easier for Mr. Churchill to track them down.”

Damaris pressed her lips together, not answering right away.

After a long pause, she finally spoke, voice low as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t tell him. He’ll figure it out anyway. Just make sure he doesn’t realize we’re searching for the bracelet too.”

She couldn’t help but worry. Mr. Churchill’s network was probably even broader than hers. Newell had spent the past few years practically losing his mind, hunting everywhere for a cure just to stay alive.

The assistant looked confused.

“Just do what I said. I’ll handle the rest,” Damaris said, her patience thinning. Her frown made it clear she wasn’t in the mood for more questions. “Go now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Not daring to say another word, the assistant left, his mind spinning with confusion as he walked out of the hall.

If she didn’t want Mr. Churchill to know, there could only be one reason. Damaris wanted to use the antidote to pressure him into continuing the genetic mutation research. The entire Churchill family knew how much Mr. Churchill hated it. If it wasn’t for survival, he never would have agreed to any of this.

Outside the tightly closed doors, the assistant paused, his brow furrowed in sympathy. Mr. Churchill’s situation was honestly tragic.

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