Chapter 117: After descending the winding mountain road, Allison drove back toward Muisvedo, simultaneously navigating her car and a phone conversation with the director of the MDH Pharmaceutical Research Institute.
"So, the drug is still in the experimental phase?" she asked.
"How much time do we have left?" he replied, his voice tight with impatience.
Allison knew that to discover the truth about Kinslee, she first needed to find a way to treat his Alzheimer's.
"Miss Clarke, as you know, Alzheimer's research is a challenging field," the director explained cautiously. "We've been working on this for years, but there are no quick solutions. That said, we have made progress. The drug is advancing in trials, but it requires more time."
Allison understood there were no shortcuts; rushing could have disastrous consequences. Kinslee couldn't afford an unreliable treatment.
After a brief conversation, she ended the call and focused on the road. Reaching Muisvedo, she found the warehouse housing the server looming before her, hidden amidst a maze of alleys and parked cars.
Exiting her vehicle, her attention was drawn to a large electronic billboard across the street. Its colorful poster advertised a new comic series by Onyx Jiménez. Several young women with megaphones enthusiastically promoted the news, surrounded by a buzzing crowd of excited fans.
"Onyx Jiménez is incredible!" one exclaimed. "He's the sexiest comic book artist there is, and I've heard he's barely twenty!"
"Plus, his stories are great," another added.
Allison usually dismissed such distractions, but something about the cover art caught her eye. She picked up a comic and flipped through it. With each page, her expression hardened, her mood shifting dramatically. Those nearby instinctively recoiled, sensing the unspoken tension radiating from her. The script, the flow, the plot—it was all too familiar. These were her abandoned Leswington drafts, repackaged under a different name. Her finger traced the title: Onyx Jiménez. A dry laugh escaped her. So, it was an old acquaintance, the editor she had worked with.
"This cartoonist is really popular," Allison remarked to a nearby girl, her voice casual yet curious.
The girl, surprised, nodded. "Yes, Onyx Jiménez is taking the internet by storm. He's having a signing event at the Commerce Building next week. You should check it out if you like his work."
"Next week, huh," Allison mused, setting down the comic. She wasn't one to rush, but for something this intriguing, she could make time.
The girl hesitated before asking, "Do you know him?" Allison smiled slightly. "No."
If Onyx had been working behind her back, there was no chance he wanted her to find out. Everything clicked into place. After Allison's disappearance from Leswington, it was logical that Onyx would dare to pass off her discarded drafts as his own. She probably never imagined their paths would cross again, especially not in Ontdale.
There was a time when Allison would have confronted him, demanding answers. But those days were over. Her priority now was fixing the server.
After completing the repairs in Muisvedo, Allison returned home, showered, and lay on her bed, muttering, "I'm losing my touch." She hadn't worked with servers in ages, and even minor troubleshooting left her with a throbbing headache. The task seemed more exhausting than before.
With a sigh, she gazed at the moonlight filtering through her curtains. Her thoughts turned to the mountain awaiting her: the battle to help Kinslee fight Alzheimer's. And, like a persistent thorn, there was Kellan. She needed to secure his support, quickly. His trust was crucial to taking Kinslee abroad for treatment. Then there was the Charisma Company; its past needed thorough examination. No stone could be left unturned.
After reflecting, Allison messaged Kellan: "Mr. Lloyd, that business partnership you mentioned is still on the table."
His reply was almost instantaneous: "Yes. I keep my promises."
No further explanation was needed. They both understood the stakes.
"If you're open to it, I can offer you more shares."
"It's not necessary; 30% is enough."
Kellan hesitated, typing and deleting, before sending a direct response: "We have a dedicated laboratory. You can come anytime, Miss Clarke. Even once a month will suffice."
"I appreciate it, I really do."
Kellan stared at his message, a soft smile playing on his lips. He found himself smiling at his phone, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, Jim, passing by the couch, noticed Kellan's distracted state. He'd been staring at the screen for a long time. Something was definitely up.