Dear Ex-wife Marry Me

In another room, Ian was fumbling his way into an air duct entrance.

He had been searching around and no matter how hard he looked, there only seemed to be three

hatches.

The woman had been watching him all day, so he couldn't get into the ducts in the daylight. Now,

threading his way through each section again, Ian finally located Walter.

Beneath his feet was Walter's room, who seemingly had blended in with the ground-level staff.

The ground-level staff was the easiest to impersonate, all wrapped up in their bulky protective gear.

Walter had already shed his suit. Ian knocked from above. There were no exits here, just a few cracks

for ventilation, but Walter could hear him.

Walter looked up, his eyes pinpointing the sound's origin.

Ian asked, "Where's Dylan?"

Had Walter's heart not been sturdy, he might've thought he was seeing ghosts. He had scouted the

area while posing as one of the staff, finding no chance to slip away.

Getting exposed would be dangerous; the tactics employed here against people were numerous. But

Ian appearing here, how did he manage that?

"No clue. We were shipped to different places. Wait, how did you get up there? Are you hacking the

system or something?"

Ian committed Walter's room location to memory and warned him.

"Don't blow your cover."

Walter raised an eyebrow. He obviously knew not to reveal himself; a hundred lives wouldn't suffice if

he did.

"I'll come to pass messages. You can't access this duct, but I'll coordinate with everyone."

Walter gave an “OK” gesture. He had been anxious, but seeing Ian eased his mind. Both Dylan and Ian

had a way of providing reassurance.

Ian had other breakthroughs tonight. He found a few of his own people; some weren't lucky enough to

maintain their cover, becoming lab subjects, sacrificed.

They had all braced for the worst before entering.

Using purchased identities to pass through various security systems meant that even in death, they

wouldn't raise suspicion unless they confessed to infiltrating the place. But these individuals were

trained professionals; betrayal wasn't in their nature.

Ian had searched everywhere but found no trace of Dylan. However, he did come across Philip's suite.

The suite had two rooms, occupied by Philip and Phil.

It was now 2 AM, but Philip was wide awake, standing before a glass cabinet, lost in thought over a

leaf.

After being warned by his mentor during the day, he had kept his hands off the business, so Phil spent

the night accompanying her again.

He easily manipulated them, but at this moment, in front of the glass cabinet, he felt an unprecedented

discomfort.

It was as if everything he had was traded for using Phil's body. And Phil was his twin, his only family in

this world.

Images of the mentor's aid flashed across his mind, but on reflection, she wasn't helping them; she was

using them to achieve her own goals.

And her disdain for Cynthia, who indeed vanished under Philip's neglect.Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

Ian, observing the man, who was motionless for long, from the wall, was about to leave when Philip

suddenly raised his hand and smashed it against the glass cabinet.