Wu Yuxuan spoke into the phone, his tone low and firm, "You don't need to handle the payment. I'll take care of it myself tomorrow. I need you to come to the hospital—room 546."
There was a beat of silence before Xia Yiran replied, hesitant, "Did something happen?"
"Chen Lin's hospitalized," he said flatly, then ended the call without waiting for her response.
He stayed in the room, unmoving, eyes fixed on Chen Lin as she slept, his expression unreadable—cold, sharp, unwavering.
There was no proof. Not yet. But the pieces were starting to fall into place. The timing, the gown, her sudden reaction. It wasn't coincidence.
His instincts were rarely wrong.
It had to be Xia Yiran.
However, he can't confront her without solid proof.
So he called the the brand they had ordered the gown from.
He asked directly if anyone aside from Xia Yiran had handled or picked up the dress.
The answer was clear: only Xia Yiran had taken possession of the gown.
No one else.
