Genius Kids' Scheme: Claiming Daddy's Billionaire Empire Chapter 198

The first electrode touched Brandon's leg. He flinched hard, his breath catching.

"This...feels weird as hell," he choked out, voice unsteady.

Irene stood beside the bed, professional mode fully engaged. "The more you tense up, the worse it gets."

"Right, relax during torture. Got it," Brandon muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.

By the third electrode, he was gripping the sheets, knuckles white, sweat beading his forehead. When the fifth electrode touched his skin, his composure shattered completely.

"MAKE IT STOP!" Brandon howled, loud enough to echo through the house.

Three little heads poked around the doorframe, watching with fascination.

"You can do it, Uncle Brandon!" the triplets cheered in unison.

Lucas whispered to Alex, "He's being so dramatic."

"It actually hurts a lot," Alex replied solemnly.

"Now comes the waiting game," Irene said, adjusting settings. "Forty minutes. Don't move or we start over."

In the living room, Adam and Joseph hunched over a chess board, the old man frowning at his opponent's latest move. Both looked up when Irene walked in.

"Based on those screams, I'm guessing Brandon survived—barely," Adam said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Irene rolled her shoulder blades, working out the tension. "Such a baby. You'd think I was torturing him instead of helping him walk again."

Joseph snorted, moving his knight. "That boy once cried over a paper cut. A paper cut!"

"He's got the pain tolerance of a toddler," Adam agreed, his gaze lingering on Irene longer than necessary. "Not everyone handles discomfort the same way."

"Some patients need hand-holding, others need tough love," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "Basic medicine they don't teach in textbooks."

"Like those sleeping pills you slipped Wesley?" Adam asked quietly.

Surprise flickered across her face. She hadn't realized he'd caught that.

"Sometimes people need help before they know how to ask for it," she said softly.

Adam nodded, understanding in his eyes. Something passed between them—a moment that needed no words.

Joseph cleared his throat pointedly.

Irene checked her watch. "Time to finish up with Brandon. Catch you later for your session?"

"I'll be waiting," Adam replied, something warm beneath his casual tone.

When she returned to the guest room, Brandon was sound asleep. He jolted awake as she removed the first electrode.

"We done?" he mumbled, blinking rapidly.

"Almost," she said. "Just the medicinal rub after this, then you're free till tomorrow."

"Hey, it doesn't hurt as much now," he noted with surprise as she continued working.

"That's the point," she said, applying ointment to his leg. "Good sign."

"Thanks," he said quietly. "Better than I expected."

Later, Brandon hobbled to the couch with Joseph hovering nearby like a protective shadow. He spotted Irene crossing the garden toward Adam's place, her figure dark against the evening light.

"So what's actually going on with those two?" he asked, nodding toward the window.

Joseph settled into his chair. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, I'm injured, not blind. There's something brewing there. Haven looks at her like..." Brandon trailed off, searching for words. "Like she's the first sunrise after a month of darkness."

"You're more observant than you let on," Joseph said, eyebrows rising slightly.

"And her? She doesn't exactly run away when he's around. And the kids are practically his fan club."

A sharp flick to his forehead cut off his amateur matchmaking.

"Ouch!" Brandon yelped, rubbing the spot. "What was that for?"

"Mind your business," Joseph grumbled. "Twenty-eight years old and still single, yet here you are playing Cupid."

"I'm just saying—"

"She deserves someone who sees her—really sees her," Joseph said, his voice softening. "After everything she's been through."

Across the garden, Irene walked into Adam's study, medical bag in hand. She switched gears instantly, doctor mode engaging like flipping a switch.

"Brandon all tucked in?" Adam asked, aiming for casual but missing by a mile.

"Out like a light," she said, laying out her equipment. "Big baby needs his rest after that tantrum."

Something flickered in Adam's eyes at Brandon's name—there for a heartbeat, then gone.

Her hands moved over his legs with practiced efficiency, checking reflexes and muscle tone. "You're making solid progress. Keep up the exercises and we might need to revise our timeline. In a good way."

"Wouldn't have gotten this far without you," he said quietly.

She waved him off. "Don't sell yourself short. Most people would've given up months ago."

As she worked, she couldn't help comparing. "The way you handle pain makes Brandon look even worse. The man crashed a race car at ungodly speeds without this much drama."

Adam's laugh was unexpected, a rich sound rarely heard. "Those walls are thinner than you'd think."

Irene packed her things, trying to ignore how the evening light softened his usually sharp features. "Early night tonight. Doctor's orders."

Adam caught her gaze, pausing like someone about to take a big risk. "Irene," he said finally, his voice different somehow. "Thank you. Not just for this. For everything."

"What are friends for?" she said with a smile.

Something changed in his expression at the word "friends"—like a shadow passing over.

"Right," he agreed. "Friends."

After she left, Adam stood by the window, watching her walk across the garden. It hit him suddenly—he was standing. Not holding onto anything, not bracing against furniture. Just standing, muscles shaking slightly with the effort.

A small victory that felt monumental.

Later, sinking into a steaming bath, he closed his eyes. But instead of focusing on his therapy, his mind filled with Irene—her concentration face, the tiny smile that appeared when she was pleased with his progress, the way she tucked hair behind her ear when thinking.

*Friends.*

The word echoed, leaving a hollow feeling in its wake. When had that stopped being enough? When had he started counting the hours between her visits?

Why did hearing her name alongside Brandon's create that spike of irritation? Why did he find himself searching for excuses to prolong their time together?

Water dripped from his hand as he gripped the edge of the tub. The truth hit him with startling clarity: he wanted more. Much more.

Rising from the bath, Adam stood before the mirror, studying himself with new eyes. Leaning against nothing, he managed five full seconds of independent standing.

Would things change if he could walk again? If he could meet her as an equal, not a man in need of her professional skills?

"What would she see," he whispered to his reflection, "if I wasn't her patient? Would she see the man instead of the medical case?"

His fingertips touched the slowly strengthening muscles of his thigh, determination hardening in his eyes.

Walking wasn't just about mobility anymore. It was about crossing the invisible line she'd drawn—the professional boundary that kept him firmly in the "patient" category.

Every step forward in his recovery pushed him closer to that line. The day would come when he could stand before her without weakness, without need. Not as Patient Zero in her medical records, but as Adam Haven, the man who couldn't get her out of his mind.

And when that day came, he'd finally ask the question that burned in him whenever she walked through his door.

And he'd do whatever it took to make it happen.