Chapter 53: Do we need to rush this?

Chapter 53: Do we need to rush this?

Chapter 53: Do we need to rush this?

“Hey Ethan, do you remember Mrs. Miller?” Scarlett asked as she forked a meatball into his mouth.

Ethan was just enjoying his meal when he heard her, and he paused, drawing a blank on Mrs. Miller.

“She was in the VIP ward upstairs, came over to say hi when you were admitted,” Scarlett added, then mentioned, “She was the one wearing those sheer embossed black stockings that day.”

“Oh! Now I remember.” The mention of the stockings brought an image to Ethan’s mind: a well-dressed woman with wavy brown hair, always looking a bit melancholic.

Her legs were long and clad in those unusual embossed stockings, the epitome of a wealthy lady.

That day, his attention had been all on those sexy long legs in black stockings. He hadn’t really paid attention to what she and his aunt were talking about.

“Hmph.” Scarlett sounded resigned. Mention stockings and suddenly he remembers. Did he store memories in stockings or something?

She quickly speared another meatball and stuffed it into his mouth, filling it up: “She was hoping you could find time to talk to her son, Ryan.”

“Huh?” Ethan looked puzzled, wondering about the sense in having a patient, listed as paralyzed, chat with another in intensive care.

What were they supposed to talk about? Who’d die first?

And that name, Ryan, it strangely rang a bell.

“Mrs. Miller’s son, Ryan, is in the late stages of heart disease,” Scarlett said, her eyes flickering with pity. “She feels like he’s keeping something to himself and doesn’t want to tell her. She doesn’t want him to leave with any regrets and hopes you might talk to him, maybe help find some answers.”

Ethan’s mouth twitched. Right now, all he could think about was making money, not joining some patient support group.

“It’s up to you,” Scarlett said, setting down her fork. “I’ll always stand by you.”

Talking about life and death was always heavy.

“Yeah.” Ethan nodded. “Don’t worry, Auntie, I’ll keep going for you.”

Scarlett paused, then smiled, leaning in so their foreheads touched. “For me, keep going.”

This time, it was Ethan who was stunned. He could sense a subtle change in his aunt’s demeanor.

Before he could ponder it further, Scarlett picked up her lunchbox and left.

The next day.

Ethan’s gaze fell first on her legs, again sheathed in sheer embossed black stockings paired with black high heels.

The lace pattern, reminiscent of butterflies, added a unique sexiness to her long legs.

After entering, Mrs. Miller managed a smile at Ethan, though her sadness was barely concealed.

“Is there something you need?” Ethan already knew what she was going to ask and was quickly thinking of how to politely decline.

Despite her fragile beauty, she was here to talk about her son, Ryan.

But right now, Ethan’s mind was solely focused on making money, devoid of any other worldly desires.

“My son had a crisis last night and just came out of the critical phase,” Mrs. Miller said, her eyes tired and sad, getting straight to the point without any small talk.

“As a mother, I can feel he’s hiding something from me, but I don’t want to press him. Ethan, could I ask you to talk to him?”

She didn’t start with the usual pleasantries people often do when asking for favors.

Perhaps in her eyes, such a request was too much and absurd, and she was prepared to be turned down.

“Mrs. Miller,” Ethan began, about to refuse, when suddenly a system interface popped up in front of him.

“Last Wish System, at your service.”

“Mission Name: Ryan’s Last Wish.”

“Mission Description: Help Ryan fulfill his last wish. Reward Points: 1000.”

“Mrs. Miller,” Ethan said, his voice tinged with empathy, “I deeply understand the pain of being tormented by illness, and the helplessness you feel as a mother. I too have lain in a hospital bed, unable to move, wishing for someone to reach out, even just to talk.”

Hope sparked in Mrs. Miller’s weary, sad eyes as she looked at Ethan incredulously.

Ethan gave her a reassuring look. “Having been through the storm myself, I hope for clear skies, ah, no, to provide an umbrella for others.”

Mrs. Miller’s eyes welled up, and she turned her head away, covering her face with her hand. “Thank... thank you. I don’t even know what to say.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Ethan said earnestly. “Mrs. Miller, you just want Ryan to have no regrets. Blair, push me over there.”

“Uh?” Blair was taken aback, staring at him. “Do we need to rush this?”