NovelAppSean recalled the moment when he had held Ophelia in his arms before getting into the car, she murmured in hazy sleep, "Flowers
in the car."
It was only later that he found two potted plants in her car.
In his urgent flurry to carry her inside earlier, he hadn't managed to grab the potted plants. Now, as he brought them in, Sean was
perplexed. Was his Ophelia a secret gardening enthusiast?
Even on the brink of exhaustion, she was thinking about the plants in the car?
What kind of plants were these, which possessed such allure that Ophelia remembered them in her last moments of
consciousness?
They looked somewhat familiar.
The soil was half-spilled—could they die? How should he revive them?
Pondering this, Sean called upon the most experienced gardener in the household to see if the plants could be transferred to the
garden or if they required special soil.
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The gardener looked at the pots in his hands with a hint of surprise. "Aren't those the plants that Miss Bella dug up from the garden
for Miss Almond to take home? | clearly placed them in Miss Almond's car. How did they end up with you? Did Miss Almond leave
without them?"
"Our family's plants??" Sean was taken aback.
"Yes, those are from our garden. Miss Bella herself askedto fetch these pots. | watched her fill them with soil from the garden
and transplant the plants."
It dawned on Sean that it wasn't the plants that mattered to Ophelia, but the deep bond she shared with Bella.
"You may go now."
"Yes, Sean," said the gardener, confused by the inquiry.
Once alone, Sean went out to the garden, where he dug up sfresh soil and carefully repotted the bedraggled yet significant
plants.
Meanwhile, Arabella sent him a message, assuring him that Ophelia was fine apart from a minor cut on her forehead. Everything
else was in good order.
Sean's heart, which had been heavy with worry, finally settled. "I've had the kitchen prepare slate-night snacks. Cdown
and eat something; you've had a long day too."
"I still have things to attend to. You go ahead," she replied.
Arabella descended the stairs while messaging Sean, and joined Clark for a trip to the basement.
The dimly lit basement were filled with the stench of blood, with over a dozen battered assassins giving off an apocalyptic vibe.
Arabella approached them with an icy voice, "Ready to talk now?"
"We've told you everything we know." One assassin, barely clinging to life, weakly pleaded, "What else do you want us to say?"
"Where did the mysterious scent on your bodies cfrom?" Arabella demanded coldly. "Erik doesn't have the smarts to concoct
something like that."
Understanding pharmaceuticals was one thing, but creating a drug so potent was another.
Another assassin confessed, "It's one of our boss's treasured secrets. We've only used it once before under special circumstances.
We don't know where it comes from."
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They only knew it was a prized possession of Erik's, and was rare in quantity.
"Do you have an antidote?"
"Yes, but we used it all up tonight."
"We were resolved to rescue our boss at all costs."
"We just didn't expect a total defeat."
Arabella was about to probe further when a weak and exhausted cough faintly broke the silence.
The assassins thought they had misheard.
Then the feeble and weary cough echoed again, and to their shock, they recognized it as their boss's voice.
Their boss wasn't dead?
He was still alive?!
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