Hearing that, Quennel couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing.
For three years, the one thing he wanted, the response he longed to hear, had finally been realized.
"Mr. Rosenberg, I trust this outcome is to your satisfaction? If not, we can still make adjustments, but it's crucial to remember that our time is running out."
Seeing how pleased Quennel was, Marcus Hale asked with professional diligence.
"No more changes. This is it. This is exactly what I wanted. It's perfect!"
"I'm glad I could satisfy you, Mr. Rosenberg. If you have any further needs, you can contact me anytime. The price is always negotiable."
As Marcus Hale finished speaking, Quennel pulled a check from his pocket and handed it to him.
"I'll call you if I need you again, but you must remember what you promised. You absolutely cannot leak a word of this."
Right now, the only people who knew Hannah's memory had been altered were himself, his assistant, and Marcus Hale.
His assistant had been with him for years and was unfailingly loyal, so there was no need to worry. But this Marcus Hale required caution.
He had actually considered getting rid of him after this was done—after all, only the dead can't talk.
But then he realized this might not be a one-time job, and other issues could arise later. So, for now, he had to let the man live.
He'd deal with him when he was no longer needed.
"You can rest assured, Mr. Rosenberg. I've been in this business for many years and have never leaked a thing. Since the job is done, I'll be on my way."
As he was about to leave, he seemed to remember something and added, "Your wife will wake up in one minute."
Marcus Hale glanced at the figure on the check, smiled in satisfaction, and left.
One minute.
In one more minute, everything would be completely different.
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