Wed to the Billionaire Brother of My Spouse by Doris

Chapter 33 Trouble
Ethan glanced at Jasmine and remained silent.
Was it intentional on her part? If so, that wasn't too dumb.
He had pegged Jasmine as the timid type, someone who wouldn't know how to fight
back. A little cunning was always better than sheer cowardice.
"She's looking out for herself," said the assistant. "In San Francisco, only you can protect her. You really should avoid this kind of
trouble." He considered Jasmine to be nothing but a nuisance.
"Just drive," Ethan said, frowning.
His assistant quickly shut up.
Ethan was a smart guy who hated complications more than anything. The heiress of the Brown family had become an
inescapable hassle, and now here was Jasmine, potentially another.
"Mr. Douglas... Miss Brown is always looking for you," his assistant ventured again, growing bolder from the time spent with
Ethan. "If you don't visit her for a day, she starts causing a scene. You accidentally charmed her once, and now look at the
trouble you've got. You're stuck with her."
His assistant was playing with fire.
After a pause, he spoke up again. "Miss Brown is actually quite nice, beautiful, and kind-hearted. She's just a bit too obsessed
with you, so she's a little extreme. You'll have to settle down someday, and the shares your father left you can only be accessed
once you're married."
Ethan arched an eyebrow; Liam was particularly chatty tonight. "Did the Browns send you a gift?"
Liam nearly bit his tongue and shook his head quickly. "No, nothing. I wouldn't dare." Ethan snorted derisively. It seemed like a

bribe. "Just drive and turn on the heater." Noticing that Jasmine was shivering, Ethan instinctively placed his hand on her
shoulder.
His arm tensed for a moment, and he silently diverted his gaze out the car window. Why was he interested in this woman?

Any time he encountered Jasmine, he felt a strange urge to touch her - an urge that seemed to come more from his body rather
than his mind.
He had always been a bit of a germaphobe, detesting close contact with others, and had never felt an impulse to touch anyone.
Yet here was Jasmine, who seemed like nothing special at a glance, except for how often she had entered his line of sight lately.
...
San Francisco Hospital.
When Jasmine woke up, only Liam was in the hospital room with her.
He sat in a chair, nodding off - he had clearly spent the night by her side.
Sitting up anxiously, Jasmine apologized. "I'm... I'm so sorry."
When Liam awoke, a mixture of concern and accusation dwelt in the depths of his eyes. "Running off to the park with such a high
fever-what were you thinking?"
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Jasmine could tell he was putting on an act, ostensibly just to draw pity from Mr. Douglas.
"I... I'm sorry." She didn't want to explain. "Thank you."
No one would believe her anyway. It would only be exhausting.
"Don't thank me. Mr. Douglas is the one who saved you. You got what you were after, huh? Don't think you can catch Mr.
Douglas's eye like this. He doesn't mix with women, especially not those who are... unclean, you get me?" Liam's tone was
intentionally fierce, aiming to intimidate Jasmine into backing off.
Holding back, Jasmine fingered her hands nervously. "I know... I haven't done anything."

"You better not have." With a grunt, Liam gave her the takeout he ordered. "Got you some soup; eat it while it's hot. Since you're
awake, I'll be on my way."

Jasmine nodded, her heart pounding as she glanced at the time: 7:40 AM.
She had promised Daniel she'd be at the Douglas estate by 8:30 AM.
But she was so hungry...
The soup seemed tasty as well.
She was grateful to Ethan, but the debt was becoming too much to repay.
With reddened eyes and a burning sensation on her lips from the hot soup, Jasmine hunched over the meal, blowing on it before
resuming her hurried eating. She was famished.
At 8 AM, the doctor began his rounds.
William, holding Jasmine's medical report, surveyed the room before his eyes fell on her, squatting and eating.
"Why are you eating on the floor?" He asked, puzzled.
Startled, Jasmine realized it had become a habit-a habit formed in prison, where she had to squat in a corner to avoid being
harassed by fellow inmates who would sometimes spit in her food. She'd often go days hungry, only managing a few bites when
she had fainted from starvation.
William's fingers stiffened, and he took a deep breath, remembering her recent release from jail. "We're keeping you on IV fluids
for the day; you're still too weak to meet the criteria for a kidney donation. I've notified the Wilson family and Daniel to start
looking for another donor."
Jasmine took a few more sips of her soup. She secured the takeout container and tidied up the plastic bag, planning to take it
with her.
Seeing Jasmine defy him, William furrowed his brow in frustration. "Even if you don't donate a kidney, you won't live long if you
don't take care of yourself. You do realize you have a heart condition, don't you?"
Jasmine didn't stop or turn around.
She was well aware that her days were numbered.

The Wilsons couldn't care less whether she met the criteria for organ donation.
"Jasmine!" William felt a surge of irritation. Did this woman truly not care whether she lived or died?
He wasn't being melodramatic; the risk of Jasmine having a fatal cardiac arrest was all too real.