The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 1270

Anthony walked down the long corridor until he reached the monitoring room for the lab.

He glanced at the screen and saw the man sitting inside, clear as day. Mr. Churchill was on the sofa, quietly swirling his tea. His eyes were downcast, lost in his own thoughts.

Anthony paused, studying him carefully. He couldn’t help comparing the man to Newell. The similarities were uncanny, and the corners of Anthony’s mouth set in a hard, straight line.

So that’s where Lottie picked up her disguise skills. Anthony realized it now. Charlotte would never have guessed that the mentor who had guided her for years, teaching her everything, was probably Mr. Churchill all along.

But there was something he didn’t understand. If Mr. Churchill had known about Lottie’s genetic mutation all those years ago, why hadn’t he done anything? If he was just after research, his own illness would likely have been cured by now.

“Anthony.”

Dr. David came into the monitoring room, stopping at the screen with a heavy look on his face. “There’s something off about Mr. Churchill.”

“What do you mean?”

Anthony’s expression darkened, tension flickering in his eyes.

“He feels familiar,” Dr. David said. “He reminds me a little of Newell.”

“Familiar, huh?”

Anthony turned the thought over, a small, meaningful smile playing at his lips. He took off his jacket, tossed it to Hans, and started rolling up his sleeves. His voice was cool as he said, “We’ll know soon enough.”

“Huh?”

Dr. David felt completely out of the loop. He looked at Hans for help. “What’s Anthony talking about?”

Hans gave him a sideways glance. “He’s ready to go for the kill.”

Anthony just nodded, then turned to Dr. David. His voice was cold. “I need to talk to Mr. Churchill alone. Could you give us a minute?”

Dr. David stood up, glancing nervously between the two. Was Anthony onto something? Was he about to confront Mr. Churchill?

“Sure. I’ll let you two talk.” He edged toward the door, but not before throwing Anthony a warning look. “Don’t do anything crazy.”

Once Dr. David left, the room went quiet.

“I never thought you’d go this far for your wife,” Mr. Churchill said, holding his teacup and taking a slow sip. His face barely changed, but his voice sounded tired and sickly. “What’s so important that you had to be this secretive?”

Anthony leaned back in his chair, eyes as cold as ice. He spoke slowly, each word cutting through the silence. “Newell.”

The name landed like a stone. Newell’s face changed, and his body went completely still.