Chapter 11 The Snake in Red
The sweet scent of chocolate filled the car.
Megan opened her eyes with a smile tugging at her lips. "Now do you finally believe it's sweet?"
Tristan licked his lips, eyes full of contentment. "Not as sweet as you. You're easily the sweetest thing in this world."
Megan raised a brow slightly, amused. "Wow, I didn't know you were such a smooth talker. Have you used that line on someone else before?"
"Only on you," Tristan said seriously. "This life, next life, every life—only you."
Her heart gave a little ache at those words.
This life, she swore she'd treasure it.
And this man—she'd love him with all she had.
Seeing her eyes turning misty, Tristan shifted a little, unsure. "What's wrong, babe? Did I overdo it?"
Megan shook her head quickly and took a small spoonful of her ice cream to hide her emotions.
But the chill hit her throat instantly, making her cough a couple of times. "No, I'm fine. It's just... talking about this life made me think of my grandpa. Molly came by a week ago and said he's in the hospital. I'm not even sure how he's doing now.
He already had Alzheimer's, and now he's got a brain tumor. It really doesn't sound good."
Tristan reached over to gently ruffle her hair. "Then let's go see him now. After we get our marriage certificate tomorrow, we'll swing by your old place too."
"Okay."
The car pulled out and headed toward the Capital Hospital.
On the way, Megan glanced over and asked carefully, "Aren't you curious about that 3V VIP card ?"
Tristan spared her a quick glance. "You studied design. You even spent half a semester in France, right? Knowing some top designers isn't exactly out of left field.
Lila Moore might keep a low profile, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have friends. Honestly, the real surprise is that she has taste good enough to make friends with you."
Megan looked out the window, murmuring, "Yeah… Lila really does have good taste."
They arrived at the hospital just before noon.
Before heading up, the two picked up a couple of magazines and a comfort care set from a nearby shop.
They made their way to Room 1123 in neurosurgery.
Pushing open the door, they saw an elderly man with white hair and reading glasses, reclining in bed with a book. A male nurse was peeling an apple beside him.
Hearing footsteps, the old man looked up and peered at the door. "Who are you here for?"
Megan quickly stepped closer and gently held his arm. "Grandpa, it's me, Megan. I came to see you."
"Megan… Megan…" Bernard Shaw looked blank. "I don't remember you."
Megan had expected this. His condition had clearly gotten worse.
The caregiver stood up and gave her a polite nod. "Hello, Miss. I'm Mr. Shaw's nurse. And you are?"
"I'm his granddaughter, Megan," she replied.
Bernard stared at her for a beat, then muttered to himself, "Megan? Megan…"
Suddenly, he clutched his head with both hands. "My head… it hurts… it hurts so bad…"
His eyes rolled back, foam gathered at his mouth—he was having a seizure.
The nurse rushed to press the emergency call button while explaining, "Lately, this happens a lot. When he sees a face that sparks a memory, he tries to remember, and it triggers these headaches."
Just then, a doctor and two nurses came rushing in.
Tristan set down the bouquet and fruit basket on the nearby table, then gently pulled Megan aside.
Following the doctor's orders, one nurse gave Bernard a sedative, another a painkiller injection.
Soon, he quieted down and drifted off to sleep.
They all stepped outside the ward.Tristan looked straight at the doctor and asked, "Hi, Doctor. Can you tell me how likely Mr. Shaw's surgery is to succeed?"
The doctor's eyes lit up the moment he recognized him, his tone turning extra polite. "Oh, so it's Mr. Reid—what a pleasure! Mr. Shaw's brain tumor is malignant. Honestly, the odds of a successful surgery are only around twenty percent. Afterward, he'll still need chemotherapy, radiation, and targeted treatments to tackle the remaining cancer cells. Given his current health, things don't look very optimistic."
Megan frowned. "Isn't there a better option?"
The doctor shook his head. "Post-surgery treatment is one thing, but the key is the operation itself. If you can get Professor Brandon Lewis—he's an international neurosurgery expert—the chances could jump to at least sixty percent."
Tristan and Megan spoke at the same time, "The Lewis family?"
The doctor nodded. "Word is, Professor Lewis should be back from the States by mid-September. If you can get him to take the case, your odds are a lot better."
Once the doctor left, Megan looked at Tristan. "I heard Brandon Lewis is kind of cold. He doesn't accept just any case."
Tristan reached out, lightly ruffling her hair. "Don't worry, I've got this. I know him personally."
Megan's eyes lit up. "That's a relief. Thank you, Tristan."
"Uh-uh. Say 'honey.'"
She smiled, eyes full of gratitude. "Thanks, honey."
After spending some more time in the hospital with Bernard, the two finally headed out.
Not long after they drove off, a flashy red Ferrari pulled up at the hospital entrance.
Molly stepped out, swinging her branded LX handbag, and walked in.
Once inside the room, she pulled off her sunglasses and glanced at the man in the hospital bed. Her tone was dripping with arrogance. "Anyone been here today?"
The caretaker nodded. "Yes, the richest man of the ountry, Mr. Reid, came by. And a pretty young lady named Megan."
Molly's fingers clenched around her sunglasses until—crack—the frame snapped.
"Damn it," she muttered.
Chin tilted high, she snapped, "Go bring me some hot water."
The caretaker scratched his head. "Actually, the thermos already has freshly boiled water."
Molly inhaled deeply, smiled sarcastically, and said, "I told you to go. Problem?"
With no choice, the flustered caretaker lifted the full thermos and stepped out.
Molly waited until the coast was clear before stepping to the bedside, smacking Bernard's face and giving his arm a vicious twist.
Her eyes turned cruel like a snake's, voice low and venomous. "You old bastard. You've always favored that little b*tch. Now look at you—totally useless. Just wait. I won't let any of you live in peace. Not a single one of you."
She let out a cold snort and walked out.
When the caretaker returned, he noticed Bernard's red cheek. Scratching his head, he murmured, "Weird. Did he scratch himself?"
Out in the car, Molly was fuming as she slammed the door behind her.
Her phone buzzed.
"Dad?"
She picked up with a sweet voice. "Hey, Dad."
"Where are you?"
"I came to the hospital to see Grandpa."
"Good kid. Always so thoughtful."
"Molly, we're all going to Mr. Reid's birthday banquet this Saturday. Pick out a good gift. It's a big deal. You'll get to meet some important people."
"Got it, Dad."
Once the call ended, a strange little smile curled at Molly's lips as her eyes narrowed.