The Breeding Deal: Brother-in-law's Forbidden Offer - Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Holiday

Christine’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest when she caught Adrian’s cold stare at her doorway last night. The chill running down her spine lingered long after he left.

After Adrian’s departure, she clung tightly to Ethan’s pajamas as she drifted off to sleep.

The next day was Labor Day. Christine got up early, had breakfast, and headed to the hospital with aromatherapy sachets to spend the holiday with Ethan. Rebecca had ordered takeout from Ethan’s favorite restaurant. Even though her son couldn’t eat, she insisted on celebrating the holiday properly.

Today’s visiting hours were moved to the morning, still fifteen minutes per person, with Rebecca going first. Before visiting, she called Adrian, asking him to come see his brother at noon so they could have a family lunch together.

Whatever Adrian said, the call ended quickly. Rebecca sighed, then smiled lovingly at her younger son through the glass window. “Your brother says he’s busy with work, but he’ll definitely come later. Mom and Christine will keep you company today, okay?”

Ethan said okay, then shifted his gaze away.

Of course he knew his brother was busy. Adrian’s business dealt in millions, carrying the fate of their entire family. Ethan shouldn’t be a burden.

Besides… he didn’t want to see Adrian.

He had always looked up to his brother, who was six years older. Though distant by nature, Adrian had an almost genius-level business instinct and worked harder than anyone else.

He remembered when he was twelve, their father asked them to create business proposals for the auction house. While Ethan treated it like a game, Adrian spent a week crafting a proposal that left even their father’s assistant thoroughly impressed.

He loved Adrian – naturally, he was proud of his big brother. But since his leukemia diagnosis, he couldn’t look at his brother the same way anymore.

These past two months, countless relatives had visited him. Every time a grown man stood by his bed, whether in a suit or with family in tow, Ethan’s heart twisted in agony.

Why did it have to be me in this bed? Why not someone else? Why do they all look so healthy and happy? Why did fate have to be so cruel?

When Adrian appeared before him, his elite and composed demeanor only doubled Ethan’s pain.

Of course he didn’t wish his brother was the one in the hospital bed, and he knew his thoughts were dark and evil, but he couldn’t help it. He hated fate, hated everything.

…Why couldn’t he have just died in that laboratory?

Why did he have to linger on, enduring all this bloody torture? What was the point of chemotherapy? Why did he have to lie here like useless trash, losing all dignity?

When it was Christine’s turn to visit, she immediately noticed something was off with Ethan’s mood.

She knew him too well. Whenever he was seriously brooding over something, he had this exact expression: clenched jaw, slightly trembling cheeks, eyes fixed on one corner.

She spoke softly, trying to distract him: “I made aromatherapy sachets for you and Mom. I read online they help with sleep. Would you like the nurses to put one under your pillow?”

Ethan nodded vaguely. She smiled gently, then took out earphones to play songs from their favorite band. She told him about making the sachets and how beautiful the marigolds were blooming in the backyard.

Before leaving the hospital, Christine received a text from Oliver. Their parents loved her gifts, he said. He attached a selfie of the family having a barbecue in the backyard – their parents hugging Oliver, with their golden retriever Toffee, everyone beaming with joy.

[How are things over there?] he asked.

[Everything’s fine.] Christine replied.

But things weren’t fine.

Ethan’s mental state had been concerning. The chief doctor repeatedly reminded the family to help manage the patient’s emotions. He explained that emotional state was crucial for chemotherapy – stress and anxiety could affect drug metabolism, worsen side effects like nausea and vomiting, and in extreme cases, even lower immunity and reduce treatment success rates.

Christine asked about getting Ethan a therapist. After some thought, the doctor said while it might work for other patients, it could backfire with Ethan.

His pride was too strong – seeing a therapist might make him more resistant, believing he was “just a useless person needing treatment.”

Christine followed the doctor’s advice and dropped the idea. She had no other options. Afraid of upsetting Ethan, she could only carefully accompany him, trying her best to lift his spirits and distract him.

She stayed in Rebecca’s room next to Ethan’s until almost nine before heading home. Being a holiday, she had sent Sophie and Martha home last night. The driver insisted on taking her home despite her saying she could take a cab. He said it was his duty, drove her to the garage, parked the car, checked everything was secure before leaving.

Upstairs, Christine found herself alone in the huge house.

She didn’t mind being alone, nor fear solitude. But on a holiday like this, being by herself made her heart feel empty, prone to wandering thoughts.

Maybe it was the pregnancy, but she was craving something sweet today. Christine remembered there were two pieces of pie left in the fridge from yesterday. She took them out and put them in the oven to warm up.

While waiting for the twenty minutes heating time, she sent a photo of the apple pie to Rachel, then video-called her parents, mentioning she’d seen Oliver’s photo and reminding them to stay warm.

The house soon filled with the scent of cinnamon. Christine carefully took out the pie with thick oven mitts and set it on the table. She poured herself some juice, turned on the TV, and started watching local news.

She had barely taken two bites when she heard footsteps – leather shoes. Christine’s head snapped up to see Adrian striding in, impeccably dressed in his suit, his well-groomed hair slightly damp from outside.

Christine stood up awkwardly; she should have heard the elevator, but the news had drowned it out. He walked past without a glance, heading straight for the storage room behind the living room, as if searching for something.

“G-good evening, Adrian…”

Christine stood frozen, her greeting hanging awkwardly in the air.

By the time Adrian came back with whatever he was looking for, Christine had turned off the TV. She stood up again, the house terrifyingly quiet except for her nervous, polite voice: “Have… have you had dinner?”

Adrian glanced at his watch, walked directly to the other side of the table, and pulled out a chair to sit down.

“…?”

Christine stared at him, confused and slightly scared.

What did this mean?

Finally, Adrian gave her a brief look and said flatly: “No.”

His eyes were so dark she couldn’t read any emotion in them. Across the dining table, his sharp gaze swept over her, making it hard to breathe. She instinctively put down her fork and hurried toward the kitchen in small quick steps, saying, “There’s… there’s another piece of apple pie.”