Milly Burnett’s Shocking Revelation Novel
Chapter 168

hapter 168 The Bloodthirsty Teenager

The dynamics between Milly and George had grown increasingly intricate, recent developments adding further complexity to their relationship.

The prospect of accepting another 135 million from him loomed large. Should the Burnetts go bust, the Tates would panic. Businesspeople only had profits on their minds. They would never give presents for no

reason.

George, astute as ever, foresaw her reluctance. Surveying Milly’s pallid countenance, he released a quiet sigh. Despite his careful calculations, why did he still manage to unsettle her?

He needed a different approach. “How much is in your account right now?”

Milly was taken aback. “Huh?”

The abrupt change in topic momentarily bewildered her. “You’re not trying to sell something to me, are you? I don’t have that kind of money… I’ve got just over 150 grand, but I can’t afford it.”

Moreover, she had no interest in acquiring weaponry. The savings she had accrued solely comprised the allowance her brother had furnished since her return. She hadn’t spent a penny of it. Despite being issued an unlimited credit card, she refrained from using it–those funds belonged to the Burnetts, best left untouched. Bankruptcy and the resultant credit card debt repayment would only compound the family’s. troubles.

George’s expression shifted upon hearing her answer. His brows furrowed subtly, his visage darkening with concern.

Back at the Burnetts, Milly had amassed a mere 150 thousand in savings. It seemed the family’s neglect of Milly persisted, leaving her to navigate the entertainment world alone.

If they genuinely cared for her, why did she bear this burden alone?

Returning to the Burnetts, where she felt estranged, bereft of affection and care, Milly bore the weight of her childhood trials with stoicism and fortitude.

George’s gaze brimmed with sympathy, his heart swelling with a resolve to treat Milly with even greater kindness henceforth.

Softening his tone, he continued, “As mentioned earlier, excluding assets and real estate, Tate Group has about 120 billion in liquid assets. This item is 135 million, while your assets amount to 150 grand. If we go by ratio, this item is only a few dollars out of your pocket.

“So, I can gift it to you, or you can pay me a tenner, and I’ll sell it to you. What do you say?”

The comparison seemed accurate…

But…

Hold on, is this guy serious?!

Selling something worth 135 millionfor a tenner?!

Even a beggar would be taken aback by such an offer.

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“You…

At that moment, a waiter intervened, disrupting their conversation, “Excuse me, sir, your auction payment has been processed. Please follow us to collect your item.”

George acknowledged the waiter with a nod.

Turning to Milly beside him, he said. “Let’s check it out together.”

Milly furrowed her brows and instinctively shook her head, “No, I’ll pass.”

George smiled warmly and proposed, “Just take a quick look. If you dislike it, I won’t give it to you. How about that?”

The statement stirred a chord within Milly. She found herself captivated, despite her initial indifference towards weaponry, by the sheer magnitude of its valuation at a staggering 135 million. The sum, she mused, rivaled the expense of half an atomic arsenal–a reflection of its perceived worth in the eyes of those who sought it.

Curiosity now firmly in place, she pondered what could compel distinguished figures to vie so fervently for possession. “Alright,” she agreed reluctantly, conceding that a mere glimpse wouldn’t hurt.

Their journey with the waiter led them through a labyrinthine path down to an underground cellar. Encased in steel and iron, it resembled more a fortress than a mere storage space, guarded by foreign mercenaries stationed at its entrance. Further within, five imposing iron gates barred the way, each fortified with digital locks, passwords, fingerprints, and facial recognition.

Milly arched an eyebrow, her initial disinterest waning as she wondered about the extraordinary measures taken to safeguard whatever lay within. What, she wondered, could necessitate such stringent security?

Before the final gate could be breached, George intervened with a grave expression. “Wait,” he urged, his eyes locked on hers with intensity that left her puzzled. “What’s the matter?” she asked, sensing his

concern.

In a solemn tone, George cautioned her, “It’s important you know beforehand. This isn’t just any weapon- it’s an experimental prototype.”

Frowning, Milly sought clarification, “What kind of prototype?”

George hesitated briefly, then explained, “In essence, it’s a human subjected to forced alterations- enhanced combat capabilities and unyielding loyalty.”

“That’s the reason everyone was so eager to pay so high just to get it.

“In truth, the intricacies of this situation defy simple explanation, but rest assured, your safety is my priority. Regardless of what unfolds, fear not, for harm shall not befall you, George assured Milly earnestly.

This was the first occasion Milly had seen such a solemn countenance on George. In that instant, her curiosity about what lay beyond diminished abruptly, replaced by a flutter of apprehension in her heart, stirred by the mystery ahead.

With a gesture, George indicated to the attendant standing nearby that it was time to proceed. The waiter acknowledged with a nod, swiftly entering the password that stood as the final barrier.

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A resounding “Clang…” filled the air as the weighty iron door swung open suddenly, its echo reverberating uncomfortably in their cars.

Milly rubbed her ears and peered

her, her entire being momad, her gaze widening as she beheld the spectacle unfolding before

frozen in awe…

Truly, it was a spectacle to behold. In the shadowy recesses of the expansive steel–constructed chamber, a substantial iron enclosure stood, encircled by a contingent of mercenaries garbed in bespoke protective attire, armed with firearms and keenly aimed at the enclosure.

Within the confines of the cage resided a figure–a young boy. He appeared tender in years, perhaps nearing eleven or twelve cycles, his countenance obscured by tousled locks that fell unkempt over his face. His limbs were tethered to the cage’s corners, reminiscent of a diminutive creature ensnared–a likeness to a small, albino mouse captured in a trap. Perhaps roused from slumber or alerted by the presence of an outsider, his gaze met Milly’s with a wary intensity, his eyes an uncommon shade of reddish–brown, evocative of a predator’s keen gaze.