Novel Reader
Chapter 1277
Quincy's murder set the city on edge, especially since Everett and Jeffrey's traces were found at the crime scene, landing them multiple trips to the police station for questioning. After all, this wasn't just any case; it was a sensational murder that had everyone talking. Everett played dumb about Lane's whereabouts, only admitting his knowledge about a certain drug involved in the case.
After cooperating with the investigation, Everett fainted right in the police station, ending up being whisked away in an ambulance. The news that the CEO of the Lopez Corporation had passed out from shock at the grisly scene spread like wildfire across Eldorria City. Of course, Lane got wind of it too.
Lying back on his bed, he glanced at Kenneth nearby and chuckled. "Look at how stupid the media is! You think Everett was scared by Quincy's body? No, he's terrified because he knows his days are numbered without that antidote."
Kenneth, who had been watching the news, turned back with a slight frown. "Do you think... Everett could come up with the antidote on his own?"
"Relax," Lane assured him confidently. "Quincy said no one else could replicate the antidote but her. I believe it."
It wasn't so much about taking Quincy at her word as it was about the facts. If Everett, with all his resources and determination, couldn't produce the antidote, it meant there was no way forward.
"I came back to make sure he pays with his life! It'd be a waste of my efforts if he doesn't die," Lane said, keeping an eye on Kenneth's reaction. Despite bringing him to his hideout, Lane had little interaction with Kenneth and couldn't verify his stories, so he had to keep his guard up for now.
Kenneth paused for a moment, then pursed his lips. "That's good, then."
After all, Lane considered him harmless-a cripple with nothing on him that posed a threat. Maybe he could even serve as a shield in the future.
"My only worry is Everett's wealth and influence. Money can move mountains."
"Unless he can use it to bring Quincy back from the dead, I doubt it'll do him any good," Lane retorted confidently, smirking at the thought of Everett in the hospital. "Hey, Kenneth, can you cook?"
Kenneth looked at him. "Yeah."
"Then whip us up something to eat. Make whatever American dish you're good at."This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.
Hiding out had taken its toll on Lane, who had lost several pounds. Despite stocking up on essentials, his upbringing had left him clueless in the kitchen, surviving on nothing but bread and sausages.
"If Everett doesn't kick the bucket soon, starvation might beat him to it," Lane muttered.
"What do we have for ingredients?" Kenneth asked, not shying away from the task despite his limping gait.
"Just check the fridge," Lane replied, unsure of what Kenneth might need.
Kenneth hobbled to the fridge and opened it to find it packed with ready meals and an assortment of quick-fix foods-clearly, Lane was betting on Everett's demise within the month, given the meager stock.