Shane Prescott sat rigidly against the hospital bed.

Victor Sullivan's embrace made his skin crawl.

From their first meeting, he'd felt nothing but aversion toward this man.

Shifting back subtly, his voice turned icy. "Mind your boundaries, Mr. Sullivan. A grave robber like me shouldn't stain your noble status."

Normally taciturn, Victor had pushed him to develop a sharp tongue.

Victor's arms froze mid-air before he awkwardly rubbed his hands. "I didn't know you were my flesh and blood! Had I known, I wouldn't have dared say those things even with ten extra lives."

Shane's gaze turned lethal. "Let go."

Victor reluctantly released him.

"Get out!" Shane suddenly barked.

Victor startled.

His peripheral vision caught Shane's right hand reaching toward his waist—those deadly throwing knives flashed through his mind. He scrambled two steps back.

Turning away to wipe his eyes, Victor forced composure. "I came straight here after getting the news. Overwhelmed, you see."

Shane narrowed his eyes. "Who told you?"

The door creaked open.

Ethan Sullivan entered with breakfast, his gaze flickering between them.

Victor immediately pointed. "Ethan did."

Hearing Ethan's name, Shane's tense muscles relaxed instantly.

Setting the food on the table, Ethan frowned at Victor. "I told you to come later."

Victor rubbed his hands. "Couldn't contain my joy!"

But the word "brother" struck Shane's heart like an arrow.

Suddenly, he understood—Ethan genuinely cared for him.

Ethan deftly unpacked the containers.

The sweet aroma of eight-treasure porridge filled the room.

After washing his hands, he carried a bowl to the bedside. "Limited options near the hospital. This'll have to do for now."

Shane's throat tightened.

Ethan lifted a spoonful. "No poison. You're my blood brother—I'd harm anyone but you."

A faint smile tugged Shane's lips. "Wasn't thinking that."

"Dead serious." Ethan's expression turned solemn. "Sophia's loaded. She can afford both of us."

Shane's smile froze.

Ethan seized the moment to slip the spoon into his mouth. "Lost too much blood. Need replenishing."

Warm sweetness slid down Shane's throat, making his eyes burn.

"I'll feed myself." He reached for the bowl.

Ethan moved it away. "Mom's orders—must hand-feed you."

Shane stopped resisting.

This unfamiliar warmth of being cared for felt strangely comforting.

Victor watched their interaction from the sidelines, beaming.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "Paternity test done yet?"

Ethan shot him a glare.

Oblivious, Victor continued, "Need it for household registration. 'Ethan Prescott' sounds grander than 'Shane Prescott.'"

Ethan set the bowl down. "Chairman Sullivan, your meeting awaits."

"But it's weekend—"

"Commissioner Chen expects you for golf." Ethan firmly ushered him out.

In the corridor, Ethan lowered his voice. "Mom said no test."

Victor frowned. "Last month with that Hank Chen imposter—"

"How did Mom react to Hank?"

Victor recalled. "Cold indifference."

"And last night?" Ethan countered. "In all these years, have you ever seen her this happy?"

Victor fell silent.

"Even if it's a scam," Ethan said flatly, "how much could they possibly take? Her happiness matters most."

Finally convinced, Victor got into his car and called Audrey Sullivan.

It only connected through his driver's phone.

"Audrey, we found Ethan Prescott. Time to forgive me?"

Audrey's冷笑 pierced through. "Did you find him?"

Victor choked.

"Take me off your blacklist," he pleaded meekly.

"Stay away from him." Audrey hung up after the warning.

At the mall, Audrey raided the men's section.

"My son's thirty—tall and handsome." She proudly told the clerk, "Bring your best selections."

The clerk stifled a laugh while recommending pieces.

Audrey didn't glance at price tags. "I'll take everything."

Next came shoes.

She remembered Shane wore size 45, personally testing comfort before purchasing.

For underwear, she meticulously handpicked each item.

After thirty years of loss, she wanted to give her son the world.

Back in the hospital room, Audrey eagerly displayed shopping bags. "Look what I got you, son!"

Shane was mid-IV drip.

That word—"son"—warmed his chest.

Audrey shook out a black casual outfit. "Like it?"

"Too extravagant." His voice softened.

"Spending on my son brings me joy!" She held it against him. "Once you recover, I'll buy you new clothes daily."

Shane didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

The aloof Ms. Sullivan hid this fiery passion beneath her elegance.

She produced new socks next.

Pulling back the blanket, she said, "Noticed your socks were worn last night."

Shane instinctively withdrew his foot. "Unnecessary—"

"Silly boy." Audrey firmly grasped his ankle.

When she spotted the black mole on his sole, her tears fell like rain.

"If only I'd checked back then..." Her voice broke.

Shane's eyes turned glacial. "Who stole me away?"