Jackson nodded in agreement. “But regardless of Connor’s blood type, I still think he’s your son just from his looks.”
Shane did not reply but rubbed his hands nervously. His breathing became heavier as he tried to suppress his feelings. He finally heaved a sigh and rolled up his sleeves. “Just do another blood test.”
“That’s my man!” A smile broke out on Jackson’s face, and he took up the syringe again to draw Shane’s blood.
But Shane soon realized something was off. “Do you really need that much blood for a DNA test?” he questioned.
Jackson giggled and replied, “Well, you’re blessed with a rare blood type. I’d better take more just in case some people need it over here at the hospital. Just take it as a chance to contribute to the community.”
A wry expression settled on Shane’s face, and he shook his head.
After all, there was nothing he could do. It was not like he could ask Jackson to put the blood back in.
After Jackson was done, he placed the test tubes in the fridge carefully before coming back to his seat.
“As for Connor’s sample, I shall leave that to you. I heard from Silas that you hired a caretaker for Connor. You might want to ask her to help to get his sample. But you had better be quick. He’s getting discharged soon,” Jackson reminded.
“I’ll get it done in two hours,” Shane said, fishing his phone out of his pocket.
He punched a series of numbers and headed out of Jackson’s office to talk to the caretaker.
Just as he got out, a person dressed in a patient’s attire quickly shirked back into the corner and fled the scene.
Over at Stanford Hospital, the caretaker answered the phone in a low voice. “Yes, Mr. Shane. I will make sure Ms. Smith doesn’t find out about it.”
She peered around cautiously and headed back to the ward.
“Ms. Smith, are you done packing everything already?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m done.”
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