The Breeding Deal: Brother-in-law's Forbidden Offer - Chapter 28
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Chapter 28: Get In
After arriving at the hospital, Rebecca went upstairs to see Ethan. Since learning about his grim prognosis from the doctor, she had barely left her son’s side.
Christine had arranged to meet Rachel for lunch at a restaurant next to the hospital. Earlier that morning, Christine had messaged Rachel saying she didn’t need company for her checkup. Still concerned, Rachel insisted on meeting for lunch during her break, just to check how things were going.
Christine chose a Chinese restaurant, and Rachel arrived shortly after. It was their first time meeting since Ethan’s incident, and Rachel gave her a heartfelt hug.
Once their food arrived, Christine shared what she could – Ethan’s concerning condition and her plan involving the fake pregnancy documents.
“You need to be careful,” Rachel wasn’t too optimistic about Christine’s plan.
“Look, I’m a doctor – you can’t fake a pregnancy forever. Once you hit the four-month mark, it’s game over. No pillow or padding is gonna look real, trust me. I’ve seen enough pregnant women to know.” She paused, then added gently, “Hey, worst case scenario… we could always say you lost the baby? I know it sounds awful, but it might be safer than keeping this up.”
Christine sipped her tea in silence.
She hadn’t told Rachel about her other plan – her arrangement with Adrian.
It was too unconventional, too shocking… She worried Rachel wouldn’t understand.
Rachel and Christine had attended the same high school. Now, Rachel was a cardiologist at the city’s largest public hospital. She had always been brilliant, publishing numerous papers at a young age and becoming a star in her department. However, when it came to romance, Rachel hadn’t been as fortunate. Nearly thirty, she had never dated. Between her busy schedule and several failed blind dates, she could only hope for a miracle.
“Oh, by the way, I saw this guy at the gym recently. We’ve crossed paths several times, and he seems nice. Want to see?”
“What does he look like?”
“Ha! He could give your Ethan a run for his money in the looks department. Though I didn’t get any face shots – just some sneaky pics!”
Rachel pulled out her phone. Christine saw a man in a black tank top practicing boxing. The photo was taken from behind at an angle, his face unclear. He had a buzz cut and a tall, athletic build – muscular but not bulky. His arms showed defined lines as he threw punches, skin gleaming with sweat.
A distinctive dragon tattoo curved around his right shoulder.
“Pretty manly, right?”
“Indeed.”
Christine suddenly remembered going to the gym with Ethan during college. The gym had a wall-length mirror, and while they worked out separately, Ethan would secretly watch her. Sometimes, after she finished a set, he’d blow her a kiss through the mirror’s reflection.
Maybe not traditionally masculine, but adorably sweet.
After lunch, Christine returned to the hospital ward where Rebecca was discussing Ethan’s upcoming chemotherapy plan with his attending physician.
After the last meeting about treatment options, Adrian had only said one thing: “Let Ethan decide.” Rebecca had no choice but to ask her son, fearing he might give up again and ask for euthanasia. To her surprise, he agreed to chemotherapy, despite knowing how grueling it would be.
The chemotherapy would officially start next week. This week, the doctors had already begun preliminary procedures like bone marrow aspiration. The first two weeks of treatment would be crucial, with intense drug administration. Patients typically experience severe vomiting, complete loss of appetite, and significant hair loss.
Yesterday, when the doctor explained all the side effects Ethan would face, he just listened quietly and said “okay.” Christine held his hand tightly.
They had five days to prepare for the chemotherapy.
During today’s visit, Christine sat beside Ethan and softly told him that their dahlias had sprouted.
They had planted those dahlias together last summer after Ethan fell in love with them at first sight. He had enthusiastically helped her prepare the soil, saying dahlias bloom so bright and magnificent that he’d definitely capture some stunning photos. When Christine teased him for being so proud, he’d pulled off his gardening gloves to pinch her cheeks, saying the round flowers reminded him of his wife’s adorable face. How could he not be proud of having such a lovely wife?
That was just like Ethan – carefree and romantic. Christine loved everything about him – the way his eyes curved when he smiled, his brilliant grin.
Dahlias are remarkable plants – they wither in summer, sprout in autumn, then bloom into spectacular flowers.
Looking at Ethan in his hospital bed, Christine couldn’t help but think that surely, like the dahlias, he would recover when times got tougher.
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Through her mask, she nuzzled against his lowered hand.
After visiting hours, Christine sat with Rebecca outside the room for a while. Rebecca urged her to rest, but she refused. Then she tried to convince Rebecca to sleep in the adjacent room. They went back and forth, neither willing to leave. Finally, they shared a knowing smile and settled outside the room, watching Ethan through the glass.
Sometimes Ethan would wake up, and though he didn’t speak, he’d look at them with a gentle smile.
It was almost nine when Christine left the hospital, only to find Ethan’s cousin Marcus, Victor Blackwood’s son, waiting at the entrance.
“What a coincidence!” The man flashed his characteristic smile – completely unlike Ethan’s, more of a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “I just came to pick up some medicine. Need a ride home? My car’s in the parking garage below.”
As the night had fallen, Marcus moved closer to Christine, his overpowering cologne making her wrinkle her nose. Before she could decline, a pitch-black Maybach glided silently to the curb, stopping with a soft click – like an elegant cat in the darkness.
The rear window rolled down slowly, revealing Adrian’s expressionless face.
“Get in,” Adrian commanded, directing his chin at Christine without sparing Marcus a glance.
Deeply dismissive.
“…Good evening, Brother.” Marcus stiffly greeted Adrian through gritted teeth.
Being a year younger than Adrian, protocol demanded he address him respectfully as “Brother” in public, even when being snubbed.
Adrian turned his head, giving Marcus a cool look and a noncommittal “Mm” before adding lazily, “Send my regards to your father.”
Then his steel-gray eyes narrowed, scanning between Christine and Marcus, silently demanding an explanation.
Adrian’s presence was overwhelming – even from inside the car, he made Marcus feel like a schoolboy being scolded by his teacher. Nervously smiling, Marcus hurried to explain his medicine errand, worried Adrian might suspect ulterior motives in his late-night encounter with Christine. He even brought up taking her to a premium clinic yesterday for check-ups, mentioning the free prenatal care he’d arranged – clearly trying to paint himself in a good light.
Feeling uncomfortable and eager to escape Marcus’s presence, Christine quickly made her way to the other side of the car and got in, all too aware of Adrian’s increasingly sharp gaze.
After Christine closed the door, Adrian addressed Marcus, who stood awkwardly outside, with a blank expression: “Your father might not know, but I’m also an investor in that hospital.”
He spoke unhurriedly, but his words landed like a bombshell, leaving Marcus frozen in place.
“Of course, do thank him for his thoughtfulness. The elderly should rest more at home now that the weather’s getting cold.” The final comment almost wiped the forced smile completely off Marcus’s face.
His message was crystal clear: Marcus’s father was an outsider who should stay out of Adrian’s family matters, keep away from Christine, and not try any tricks. If they attempted anything, there would be consequences.
Could he have already guessed their intentions?
Marcus could only stand there, managing a weak “yes” like a mosquito’s buzz.
Adrian turned his attention back inside the car without another word. The driver immediately understood, raising the window, leaving Marcus staring at his own rigid reflection in the dark glass.
The next moment, the Maybach glided away.
Marcus remained rooted to the spot, fists clenched tightly, head slightly bowed. He didn’t dare show any emotion until the Maybach was out of sight.
Only when the car had completely disappeared did he raise his head, face contorted with rage as he stared ahead, spitting out through clenched teeth: “…Fuck you, Adrian.”
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