The Breeding Deal: Brother-in-law's Forbidden Offer - Chapter 74

Chapter 74: Brother

Adrian arrived at the hospital early in the morning.

Last night, Ethan was suddenly struck by a mysterious fever, the temperature rising with frightening speed, shooting up to 38.5°C(101.3°F) in no time.

For healthy people, a fever usually means a few days of rest. But Ethan was in the middle of chemotherapy, which had severely depleted his white blood cells. His immune system was practically non-existent. If the fever continued, it could quickly lead to sepsis.

Throughout the night, Ethan suffered from severe chills, rapid breathing, and an accelerated heartbeat. Several times, he nearly lost consciousness. The nurses and doctors tried various methods to bring down his fever, but the situation remained critical.

Rebecca wanted to call Christine, but she hesitated, worried about alarming her in the middle of the night. She couldn’t risk anything affecting the baby. In the end, Rebecca spent the entire night alone at the hospital, too anxious to close her eyes even for a second.

By morning, Ethan’s temperature hadn’t dropped at all. Rebecca tried calling Christine, but there was no answer. Understanding that pregnant women needed their rest, she left a carefully worded voicemail explaining the situation at the hospital, ending with instructions for Christine to stay home and rest.

Around nine o’clock, the attending physician came to the ward personally. He gravely informed Rebecca that such a high fever was extremely dangerous for Ethan. While they would do everything in their power to treat him, she should prepare herself for the worst if his condition didn’t improve soon.

Rebecca felt her hands and feet go cold with fear. Overwhelmed and terrified, she collapsed into a chair outside the ward. She called Adrian, begging him to come to the hospital to support her and check on his brother.

Adrian’s response was brief: “I know, coming.”

It was the day after his birthday.

Once he arrived at the ward floor, through the glass window of the ward, Adrian saw nurses frantically applying and replacing ice packs all over Ethan’s body. Ethan’s face was burning red, not with health but with the torment of blood that seemed ready to boil. His lips were completely dry, and his face was covered in large beads of sweat.

He overheard two young nurses rushing in with ice packs, saying they couldn’t risk giving Ethan any fever medication or antibiotics. Physical cooling was their only option, and they had to check his temperature every fifteen minutes.

When Rebecca saw Adrian, she stood up unsteadily. His mother no longer carried herself with the elegant grace of a wealthy lady. She just clutched his arm, asking in terror and desperation, “What should we do? What can I do for him?”

Chemotherapy was already excruciating, and now with this persistent fever, Ethan was literally racing against death.

But Ethan had no strength left to run.

Last month, after an infection, he was wheeled out of the emergency room on a gurney. His hands were practically ruined from IV needles, with barely any undamaged skin left. He turned his head and saw Rebecca.

Her son, barely breathing, whispered, “Mom… I’m so… tired… so tired…”

His eyes were lifeless, yet two tears rolled down his cheeks.

In his desperation, he had found a twisted hope: that next time he got a fever, death might show mercy and take him away.

Since Christine tearfully announced her pregnancy, Ethan never mentioned death, but his eyes and every word spoke clearly of his wish to die.

He stayed silent because he couldn’t bear to burden the two women who loved him most. He didn’t want them to worry anymore, to waste their precious time on someone as useless as himself.

Yet he loved them too deeply to let go. He worried constantly: How would his mother spend the rest of her days? She had prayed endlessly just for him to stay alive. And Christine – she was so young. What would happen to her if he died? What about their unborn child? How would a child grow up without a father? How would Christine explain it? Would their child be mocked for having no father?…

These thoughts tortured him every moment he was conscious.

Ethan knew his life was effectively over – he was like a man hanging upside down at the edge of a cliff, suspended in mid-air, about to fall, yet someone kept holding onto his leg. He could neither climb up nor fall down.

Yet even in this unbearable limbo, he forced himself to act positive, to believe in the miracle Christine spoke of, to repeatedly meet his mother’s eager expectations.

His only constant companion was endless despair.

Adrian strode into the ward, but the head nurse blocked him, saying the patient was in critical condition and no visitors were allowed.

James, who was following behind, quickly explained in a low voice, “This is Ethan’s older brother, Mr. Adrian Blackwood. They haven’t seen each other in ages. Even if it’s just for two minutes, please let them have a moment.”

The head nurse glanced at the handsome man, finding his face familiar. Worried he might be someone important, she let him in, saying, “Five minutes maximum.”

In the room, his weakened brother lay on the hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines and IV drips, wearing an oxygen mask. At the foot of the bed stood his elegant, tall brother.

Adrian, dressed in a suit, looked down at his brother in silence, his eyes like a stormy sea.

Ethan turned his head slightly and spoke slowly through the oxygen mask: “Adr… ain… thank… you… for… coming.”

Adrian frowned, his eyes fixed on the thermometer in the nurse’s hand, still showing 38.5°C(101.3°F).

“Whatever you want to say, tell me when you’re better.”

Ethan smiled, then cried.

They hadn’t seen each other in a long time. Unless necessary, Adrian rarely visited Ethan.

Though Rebecca often complained about this, Ethan never blamed his brother. He knew Adrian was protecting his dignity. His big brother understood that Ethan didn’t want anyone to see him in such a weak, miserable state.

He could tolerate sympathetic looks from strangers, but he couldn’t bear to see the shock in his family’s eyes.

Because, it constantly reminded him of what he could have been – happy and successful, a pillar of the family, an excellent man… just like his brother.

Ethan knew that despite how much Adrian’s personality had changed, they would always be brothers.

The head nurse came over, wiped Ethan’s tears, and told Adrian to leave, saying his presence was causing emotional distress that could interfere with treatment.

Adrian turned to leave, but before reaching the door, he heard his brother’s weak voice calling him. He turned back, and Ethan was still lying sideways, struggling to speak.

Adrian leaned down to listen. After several attempts, he finally made out what Ethan was saying: “drawer.”

Adrian looked at the bedside table.

He walked over and opened the top drawer, finding a photograph inside.

Although Adrian hadn’t celebrated birthdays with his family since his teenage years, barely even coming home, Ethan had prepared a gift for him every year: a photograph he had taken himself.

When Ethan was little, he knew nothing about composition – he just pressed the shutter. His tiny hands would hold their father’s big camera, usually taking candid shots of Adrian’s profile or back. The photos were crooked, sometimes with fingers visible in the frame.

On the back, in childish handwriting: “Happy Birthday, Brother.”

As he grew older, Ethan bought better cameras and lenses, becoming more professional. He captured Adrian playing tennis, his graduation ceremony, his first auction attendance, the opening ceremony of his company building.

This year, for Adrian’s birthday, Ethan had sent another photo.

But this time, the subject wasn’t Adrian – it was Ethan himself.

On his own birthday, late at night in the hospital room, he had held the camera with trembling hands, facing a mirror, and pressed the shutter.

The image showed his pale face wearing a smile, with a small cake and a lit candle.

On the back was another message, written with Christine’s help, each stroke shakily penned: “Brother, happy birthday to us both.”

Adrian stood silently, gripping the photo so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He turned to look at his brother. Ethan’s face had grown so thin, the fever making him look barely alive. Yet through the oxygen mask, he managed to smile at his brother, tears streaming down his face.

Adrian knew Ethan wasn’t truly happy.

He had never imagined his brother’s life would turn out this way.

In Adrian’s eyes, his brother had been incredibly blessed – everyone had such warmth for him, giving him the right to pursue praise, love, and happiness. From the day he was born, Ethan had been surrounded by endless love.

In contrast, no one had ever loved Adrian that way.

Perhaps that’s why he never learned how to love others.

Since he was old enough to understand, Adrian had never considered marriage or having children. He didn’t want his child to grow up like him, in a loveless home.

He was aware of his own damaged nature, knowing he couldn’t provide any emotional warmth to a child.

When Christine came to him that day, crying, begging him for a child, he sat in his office, lost in thought.

A strange yet appealing image crossed his mind: if his child could be raised as his brother’s child, receiving Rebecca’s love and care, perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad.

At least his child could receive the genuine blessing that he never had.

But now, looking at his brother in the hospital bed, Adrian felt the weight of his own depravity.

This morning, when he woke up in his office bedroom with Christine holding him tight, her gentle breathing warm against his neck, he finally realized what he truly wanted… was more than just a child.

He had this despicable, overwhelming desire to replace Ethan in Christine’s heart. He wanted Christine to belong to him completely.

He wanted Christine’s love.

And the child.