"Ms. Walker, please calm down. Ms. Jones hasn''t even touched her phone. There''s no way she could have recorded anything."


    Only then did Ynda realize she''d been tricked.


    "Yvonne, you dare lie to me!" she seethed, raising her hand to strike.


    However, before her hand could fall, Simon stopped her. "Ms. Walker, perhaps we should focus on the official business at hand."


    At his words, Ynda lowered her arm. She shot Yvonne onest venomous re before striding into the police station.


    "Ms. Jones..." Simon began, his expression apologetic.


    Yvonne smiled at him. "Go on, I''ll be leaving now."


    After leaving the station, Yvonne drove back to the hospital.


    Knowing she wasn''t wee, she didn''t dare enter the room or even get too close. She settled on a bench at the far end of the hallway, catching snippets of information about Bet''s condition from passing medical staff.


    After the morning rounds were over, two nurses pushing a medical cart walked past her.


    Yvonne overheard their conversation:


    "The patient in VIP suite 12 is so strange. There''s no infection, but his high fever just won''t break. The higher-ups are putting so much pressure on us; the hospital director and the department head are tearing their hair out."


    "He''s the son of the richest man in Istra. If anything happens to him in our hospital, we''ll all be in deep trouble."


    "The director said Mr. Thompson''s fever is due to emotional distress. It''s a sickness of the heart."


    "I heard that too. They said he keeps calling out his ex-girlfriend''s name in his sleep. His fiancée was so furious her face was practically twisted..."


    The two nurses disappeared down the hall.


    Yvonne stood up, looking anxiously toward the hospital room.


    The Thompson family was there at this hour, and they disliked her. If she went, she would just be kicked out.


    Yvonne waited patiently from


    morning until evening, until the


    Thompsons had finally left one


    Wr


    one Only then did she approach the room.


    But two uniformed guards were stationed at the door.


    Being stopped outside was deeply awkward.


    Just as Yvonne was debating whether to plead her case or simply leave, a familiar male voice spoke from behind her. "Let her in."


    Yvonne turned to see it was Simon.


    As Bet''s personal aide, his words carried weight. The guards at the door stepped aside and allowed her to enter.


    The VIP suite was spacious and immacte, with a reception area and a rest area for staff outside the main patient room.


    Yvonne walked into the bedroom and saw Bet lying on the bed. He didn''t look well.


    His face was flushed from the persistent fever, his forehead beaded with sweat, and his breathing was shallow and uneven.


    His eyes were closed, but the sharp intensity in his brow remained. Even gravely he was still the proud and


    powerful Mr. Thompson,


    he


    But the IV line taped to the back of his hand, the way the veins stood out, and the asional hoarse, pained groans that escaped his throat made him seem incredibly vulnerable, tugging at her heart.


    Yvonne stood by the bed, watching him silently as a pang of pain spread through her chest.


    She cautiously reached out, gently cing her hand on his hot forehead.


    The next second, her wrist was seized in a powerful grip.


    Yvonne''s eyes widened in shock. Bet was awake, his hand mped around


    hers, the veins on his own standing out.


    "What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.


    Yvonne looked into his calm, almost frigid eyes, and her heart sank.