Chapter 18

"Late-stage stomach cancer was fake?"

Andrew Lucas's hand hovered over the doorknob, his fingertips trembling slightly.

The doctor's voice continued in the hallway, "When that girl bit the blood pouch, I really thought she was dying. Young people these days—why are they so extreme in relationships?"

"What choice did I have? She held a scalpel to her own throat, threatening to kill herself if I didn't cooperate!"

Footsteps approached. The doctor turned and froze when he met Andrew's icy glare, his phone clattering to the floor.

"Who faked the illness?" Andrew's voice was laced with frost.

The doctor's lips trembled. "N-no one—"

Crack!

Andrew's strong fingers closed around the doctor's throat, slamming him against the wall. His eyes burned with fury, yet his voice was terrifyingly soft.

"Last chance."

The doctor's legs turned to jelly, his white coat soaked in sweat. "It was Susan! She paid me $10,000 and threatened to jump off a building! She wasn't sick—the blood was fake!"

Silence.

Andrew released him. The doctor collapsed, gasping for air. Staring at his own palm, Andrew suddenly let out a low, chilling laugh.

The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop.

"Susan... you're unbelievable."

Inside the VIP ward, Susan carefully folded the paternity test report. The words "Confirmed Biological Father" stood out in bold red.

She quietly pushed open the door to the adjacent room.

Daniel hurriedly shoved a piece of paper under his pillow, but Susan had already seen the crooked handwriting: How can I make Daddy like me?

"Sweetheart." She knelt beside the bed, unfolding the report. "Daddy never hated you."

Daniel's eyes lit up—then dimmed just as fast. "But he never lets me call him Daddy..."

"Because he didn't know you were his child." She placed the report in his small hands. "Now he does."

The three-year-old buried his face in the blanket, his voice muffled. "I don't care if he acknowledges me."

But his reddened ears betrayed him.

Susan gently rubbed his back. She knew how much this stubborn little boy yearned for a father's love.

The hallway lights stretched Andrew's shadow long and dark.

He stood outside the door, watching the tender scene inside, his expression growing colder.

When Susan returned to her own room, a dark figure suddenly pinned her against the wall. Cold fingers closed around her throat as a voice like the devil's whispered in her ear:

"Enjoying your performance, cancer patient?"