Chapter 1181:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

Eaton nodded without a moment’s hesitation. “I was. In fact, I noticed you that day. But before I could ask for your contact information, you had already vanished. Thinking back on it, it feels like fate. I don’t intend to let the chance slip by a second time.”

Zane went silent for a long beat, his eyes searching Eaton’s face. “Let’s see, then,” he finally conceded. “Let’s see if you’re actually capable of winning me over.”

“Fifty thousand a month,” Eaton proposed, his voice steady and calm. “I don’t need a spy. I just want your company. Nothing more.”

Zane nodded. “Alright.”

With those words, the deal was struck.

Back in his apartment, Zane stood by the window, watching Eaton’s figure retreat into the night. His confusion only deepened the longer he stared.

𝘐ո𝘁𝖾𝘯𝘴𝖾 𝗿o𝘮a𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝘰ո g𝗮l𝗇𝗈𝗏𝘦𝘭𝘀.cо𝗺

“What is he playing at? Since when did he start being interested in men?”

Meanwhile, inside the car, Eaton let out a heavy sigh of relief, a spark of genuine satisfaction in his eyes.

From the front seat, his assistant turned around, looking bewildered. “Mr. Holt, why the sudden decision to keep him around? You’ve never shown any interest in these kinds of arrangements before.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Eaton said, leaning back into the leather seat, his voice dropping to a low, contemplative murmur. “There’s something familiar about him. I don’t intend for things to get inappropriate; I just want the peace of mind he brings.”

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “It’s Eaton. I have the reagent. Now, I need Theo’s body from you. Once it’s in my possession, we can move forward with the procedure.”

“Move forward? Do you think it’s that easy? You think I didn’t try to get the reagent myself? It’s useless. I’ve already attempted the injection, and it was a total failure.”

Eaton’s grip on the phone tightened. “Are you playing games with me? I’ve already met with Lyndon — he’s the one who gave me your contact. Just hand over the body.”

“Games? I’m telling you the truth. There is no path forward.” Ian sighed. “Gilmore is dead. Who else is going to provide a working reagent? Gracie? Do you honestly believe she’d hand you the real thing?”

“That’s my problem to solve. Just bring the body.”

“Fine. Since you won’t accept the truth until you see the results for yourself, I’ll give you what you want. Meet me at the dock in three days.”

Eaton hung up, his expression darkening as he stared into the night. “Did Gracie give me a fake? Or was the entire experiment fundamentally flawed from the start?”

Gilmore’s expertise had been second only to Gracie’s. If he couldn’t make it work, was Gracie even capable of success — or was she simply leading him into a trap?

Three days later, Eaton watched the workers unload the cargo at the dock, his excitement barely restrained.

The moment the delivery was finalized, he rushed forward to take the body himself, cradling it with a reverence usually reserved for a priceless relic.

Under the cover of night, he returned to his city-center villa.

“Mr. Holt, let me help you with that,” his assistant offered.

“No!” Eaton barked, slapping the assistant’s hand away. “Don’t touch him.”

.

.

.