The Prison-Made Queen novel Chapter 941

Clive struggled desperately, but weakened by his prolonged illness, he was no match for Zeus.

"Go to the hospital? Let those incompetent doctors pump you full of useless drugs?" Zeus scoffed. "Clive, I'm your own brother. Why can't you trust me just one more time? How do you know those hospitals won't leak your scandal to the press and plaster your face all over the headlines again? You'd be ruined forever!"

Clive turned a deaf ear to him, thrashing wildly.

Since he wouldn't listen, Zeus felt he had no choice but to do things the hard way.

Zeus's expression darkened, a vicious glint in his eyes. "I already told you! Once you agreed to work with me, backing out wasn't an option!"

"I've sacrificed far too much for you. I won't let you throw it all away!"

"Let go of me! Zeus, you're crazy! You're completely insane!"

Zeus's demeanor was visibly deranged.

Terrified, Clive screamed and kicked at him.

"I'm doing this for your own good! You're sick right now, and you're not thinking straight. Once you're cured, you'll thank me!" Zeus's face twisted with exertion. He pinned his brother down with an iron grip, while his other hand reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a small, pre-prepared syringe.

Clive's pupils shrank at the sight of the gleaming needle. Pure terror seized him. "What are you doing? What is that?! Let go of me!"

"You're a monster! Using your own brother for an experiment!"

"This is just something to help you 'calm down' so we can continue your 'treatment'." Zeus's voice was freezing and ruthless. There was no trace of familial love left—only the cold detachment of a scientist handling a disobedient test subject.

"Don't worry, I measured the dose perfectly. It won't hurt you. When you wake up, you'll understand exactly why I had to do this."

But he felt absolutely no remorse. After all, without him, Clive's situation would be far worse.

As for imprisoning his own flesh and blood? Zeus couldn't care less. It was Clive's own fault for being uncooperative.

Besides, Clive's reputation was already in tatters. Their oldest brother was tied up dealing with their father's health. For the foreseeable future, no one would be looking for Clive. And even if they found out, so what?

He was his older brother; treating his illness was perfectly justified.

No one was going to ruin his plans. He was banking on this human experiment to win the Nobel Prize.

He gently laid Clive onto the bed, locked the door tight, and casually tossed the critical medical records into the trash as if they were nothing.