CEO loves me with all his soul.-Chapter 141. Final Countdown

The dim light of dawn filtered through the thick velvet curtains of Levistis Manor, tinting the marble floors in gentle gold. Despite the hour, the manor wasn’t still.

It hadn’t been, for days.

Adrian sat hunched at his workbench in the east wing laboratory, surrounded by glass beakers, data pads, coded equations, and hovering medical scanners. His silver eyes were bloodshot, dark crescents shadowing them. He hadn’t left the lab in over sixteen hours.

His hands trembled slightly as he inputted another variable into the simulation interface, then ran the genetic sequence again. A flicker. Red. Failed.

"Again," he whispered.

The screen swam in front of his eyes. He blinked hard—once, twice—but it didn’t help.

Then it came.

The sharp stab behind his eyes. The nausea rolling up from his gut. He barely had time to reach for the nearby waste bin before he doubled over, retching.

His chest heaved.

The bitter taste of stomach acid burned his throat.

"Adrian!"

The door burst open. Ethan crossed the room in two strides and dropped to his knees beside him. His hand flew to Adrian’s forehead, brushing the soaked strands of black hair away.

"You’re burning up," Ethan said, voice tight with concern. "Why didn’t you call me?"

Adrian tried to wave him off, but Ethan caught his wrist gently.

"Don’t even think about it," he growled.

Adrian looked away, ashamed. "We don’t have time—"

"You won’t finish anything like this," Ethan said, his voice low but intense. "You’ll kill yourself before that serum ever stabilizes."

"But we only have forty-two hours, Ethan," Adrian said softly, barely above a whisper.

"I know," Ethan replied. "Which is why I’ve already hired help."

Adrian blinked, confused.

At that moment, the door opened again. Two unfamiliar figures stood there, both in their forties, one with silver-rimmed glasses, the other with sharp gray eyes and a data case in hand. Both of them carried the air of people used to solving impossible problems—and being hated for doing so.

"These are Professors Kaelin and Mehra," Ethan said. "Top of their fields. Geneticists. They’ve both signed iron-clad non-disclosure agreements. They’ll work with you—"

"No," Adrian said weakly. "They might be watched."

Ethan squeezed his hand. "They’ve been vetted. They know what’s at stake."

Adrian closed his eyes. He didn’t want to trust strangers. He didn’t want help. He wanted to be strong enough on his own.

But his body... was done.

"Just rest," Ethan said. "Let them take over for a few hours. Please, Adrian."

Adrian tried to reply but couldn’t find the words. The room tilted slightly, and before he could stop it, he fell sideways—into Ethan’s arms.

Soft sheets. The scent of cedar and soap.

Adrian stirred, his head nestled against a familiar pillow. He blinked groggily, his body heavy with exhaustion.

Beside him, the gentle breathing of his children.

Seraphina and Aurelius lay curled in their cribs, nestled in downy blankets. Even in sleep, they seemed to shine.

He smiled faintly.

Then pushed himself up with a groan.

"Don’t even think about it," Augustin said from the chair near the window, arms crossed.

"I have to," Adrian muttered.

"You just vomited from exhaustion two hours ago," Augustin said flatly. "Take six more, at least."

"I can’t," Adrian said. "We only have forty-two hours left."

Augustin stood and walked over. "I’ve pulled all your files into the west wing. You can monitor progress from a distance. Let the others run the active tests."

Adrian reached down and picked up Seraphina, kissing her warm cheek. "You be good for papa, okay?" Then he kissed Aurelius on the forehead. "And you too, don’t give Grandpa Leclair a hard time."

Seraphina stirred and made a little cooing noise. Adrian’s smile wobbled.

"They’re counting on us," he whispered.

Augustin sighed but didn’t argue. "I’ll get your tea."

As Augustin left the room, Adrian stood shakily, setting down the twins gently. His gaze lingered on them. His children. His miracles. His reasons.

He had no choice but to push forward.

The lab hummed with activity now. Kaelin and Mehra worked quickly, synchronizing the data streams and stabilizing failed sequences. Adrian hovered at the edge of the room, pale but focused, reading variables from the digital pads, suggesting adjustments in gene-splicing intervals.

Ethan stood nearby, arms crossed, watching him closely.

"He shouldn’t be here," he said quietly to Augustin.

Augustin sighed. "Try convincing him."

"I did. He didn’t listen."

"He’s your husband, not your soldier. And right now, he’s fighting."

Ethan ran a hand through his hair. "I hate seeing him like this."

Augustin looked over at Adrian. "Yeah. Me too."

Later that evening, Ethan found Adrian on the rooftop balcony, leaning on the stone railing, staring out at the darkening sky.

The breeze caught his long black hair, sending it swaying behind him like a banner.

Ethan approached silently.

"You’re angry," Adrian said without turning around.

Ethan sighed. "No. I’m scared."

Adrian finally turned. His silver eyes were clearer now. Focused. "I’m fine now."

"You said that while vomiting an hour ago."

Adrian offered a tired smile. "I mean it this time."

Ethan looked at him. Really looked.

"You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met," he said. "But strength also means knowing when to lean on others."

Adrian’s smile faded. "If I don’t finish this—"

"You will," Ethan interrupted. "But not alone."

He stepped forward and kissed Adrian’s forehead. "Let others help. Let me help."

Adrian closed his eyes for a moment.

Then leaned into him. Just briefly. "Okay."

That night, Adrian couldn’t sleep.

He wandered into the twins’ room, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. The nursery was softly lit, filled with warm light and gentle lullabies.

He leaned over their crib and brushed Seraphina’s cheek. Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t wake.

"I hope you never have to see the world I’m trying to fix," he whispered. "But if you do, I hope you’ll understand why."

Then he touched Aurelius’s tiny hand.

"Your papa is fighting for you," he said softly. "Just give me a little more time."

He sat down on the nursery couch, arms wrapped around his knees.

And stayed there until dawn.

The next morning, the serum trials began yielding success. Kaelin and Mehra worked like clockwork, while Adrian pushed through monitoring, cross-referencing the mutation rates with human compatibility.

Forty-two hours became thirty.

Then twenty.

And still, they weren’t there.

"Sequence holds for nine minutes before destabilizing," Mehra muttered. "Not good enough."

Adrian rubbed his temples. "The catalyst ratio is too high. We need something to stabilize it without burning through the protein chain."

"What about adracyline?" Kaelin suggested.

Adrian paused. "Maybe... yes. Ethan—can you bring up the third sample archive from the 12th vault?"

Ethan was already moving.

Adrian sat down beside a cooling beaker. His limbs ached, but the worst of the fog had cleared. He was functioning again.

Ethan returned and placed the new sample in his hand.

Adrian looked up at him.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not treating me like glass."

Ethan knelt in front of him, their eyes level. "You’re not glass," he said. "You’re fire."

Then, after a beat:

"And I’ll never let that fire burn out."

Adrian’s throat tightened. "We only have nineteen hours."

Ethan touched his cheek gently. "Then we’ll win in eighteen."

New n𝙤vel chapters are published on fre(e)webnov(l).com