Addicted To The Genius Lady With A Thousand Faces

Chapter 882:

He was seated upright, facing the entrance. Their eyes locked as she looked in, and his gaze was intense, brightening at her presence, filled with eagerness and anticipation. He sprang to his feet, poised to greet her.

Marissa took a brief pause before walking in. The moment she did, the doors closed behind her with a quiet thud. Beyond the arch, there was another room where the temperature was even colder. A shiver ran down Marissa’s spine.

She slowly glanced around and noticed that the room was empty except for herself and Q. The soundproofing was nothing short of impressive, as all external sounds ceased the moment the doors were shut.

Noticing her hesitation, Q spoke first, his voice vibrating with excitement. “Riss, welcome aboard my ship. Together, we are about to create something extraordinary that will be a breakthrough for humanity, redefining history.”

His face mirrored his words as his features grew more animated with every syllable. It was clear to see that he was boiling with excitement.

Despite keeping her face neutral, Marissa couldn’t help but inwardly conclude that Q was entirely driven by his own madness. After staying silent for a moment, she asked, “What do you need from me?”

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Q did not reply immediately. Instead, he moved to a large, square object draped in a black cloth and gently placed his hand on it. Marissa’s eyes followed his motion toward the shrouded item. She couldn’t discern much through the fabric except its outline, which resembled a large cabinet.

Q’s hand trembled slightly as he caressed the object, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. His voice shook as he asked, “Do you have any idea what’s under here?”

Marissa’s brows knitted together when she heard this. She did not respond but had an inkling of what it might be. Her suspicions were confirmed moments later when Q whispered, voice breaking, “It’s my daughter.” With a sudden move, Q yanked the black cover away. Underneath was a coffin made of crystal. Its transparent lid revealed the figure of a young woman lying inside.

Tears dripped from Q’s face onto the coffin’s surface, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent, frigid room, imbuing it with palpable sorrow.

Marissa stood motionless, recalling what her father had told her—Q’s daughter had passed away from cardiac arrest shortly after turning eighteen. She had been so full of life. Paul had said that Q had been just thirty-six when his daughter died. He had fathered a child with his high school girlfriend, who left and went overseas right after childbirth, never to return. Left alone, Q raised his daughter, and they became everything to each other.

Now, Q was sixty, and his daughter had been dead for twenty-four years. Unable to lay her to rest, he had preserved her in this coffin, consumed by the desire to find a way to revive her. From this perspective, Q was indeed a devoted father, bound by his love for his child.

As Marissa pondered these thoughts, Q suddenly addressed her

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