CHAPTER 149: CHAPTER 149: USING RUMORS AS BAIT

Sienna Monroe didn’t respond to his words. Shortly after finishing his meal, a different nurse came to give him an injection.

This time, Caleb Sinclair was very cooperative, even asking the nurse to convey his sincere apologies to the previous nurse who had come to give the injection earlier, and resumed his gentlemanly and courteous demeanor.

It was as if the person who had furiously yelled at the nurse earlier in the morning wasn’t him at all.

There was a trace of inexplicable emotion in Sienna Monroe’s eyes.

The nurse rechecked his temperature, 39 degrees, and the fever had relapsed.

She advised him to stay in the hospital for another day and only leave once the fever had completely subsided.

There were five bottles of medication in total, two large and three small, and the drip wasn’t flowing quickly, which meant it would take over two hours.

Sienna Monroe, worried he might get bored, turned on the TV and found a comedy show for him to watch.

The reason was to help him relax.

At half-past ten, the phone placed on the nightstand suddenly rang with a crisp and pleasant ringtone.

The sound wasn’t loud, yet it seemed to overpower the noisy laughter from the TV.

Sienna Monroe paused and, when she turned her head, saw Caleb Sinclair’s heavy gaze fixated on her phone, his brow furrowed, his expression enigmatic.

She also furrowed her brows, reaching out to pick up the phone.

There was no note on the caller ID.

But Sienna Monroe recognized this string of numbers.

It was the private detective with whom she had been collaborating.

Since Vivian Nash’s disappearance, the detective hadn’t been in contact with her, and she hadn’t proactively asked about Vivian Nash’s whereabouts.

After all, they had collaborated so many times; she trusted the private detective.

Suddenly, Caleb Sinclair’s deep voice sounded by her ear, "Who’s calling?"

Upon hearing this, she raised her eyes to meet Caleb Sinclair’s dark, slightly fierce eyes.

Her expression faltered briefly.

The same kind of gaze.

Dark, scrutinizing, suspicious.

Even the tone carried a hint of interrogation.

A strong sense of disgust welled up in Sienna Monroe’s heart; she suppressed it hard, ensuring it didn’t reveal itself in her eyes.

Calmly, she spoke with a slightly indifferent tone, "It’s Nora Joyce. You watch this; don’t move your hand. I’m going out to take the call."

Sitting diagonally, Caleb Sinclair hadn’t seen the screen when she picked up the phone, and now seeing her posture of taking the call out of his sight, a sense of displeasure and irritation arose within him.

The first thought that leaped out was that the call wasn’t from Nora Joyce.

But from Sebastian Prescott.

Watching her departing figure, he clenched his fist, his face quickly clouding over.

Even the needle on the back of his hand had started bleeding, but he didn’t care.

As the room door closed, he inhaled deeply, feeling as though there was a blaze igniting in his chest, spreading swiftly like wildfire and reigniting the nearly extinguished flame from the morning.

He grabbed his phone from beside the pillow, finding Special Assistant Langley’s number in the contact list.

A swift gleam of determination flashed through his eyes.

Without this kind of desperate situation, how could he make Sienna rely on him and change her mind?

A man should act without getting bogged down in details.

Even if it meant using such despicable means, what of it?

He just wanted to win over Sienna Monroe.

He told himself this in his heart, then dialed the number.

Special Assistant Langley answered quickly, "Mr. Sinclair, how is your health recovering?"

Caleb Sinclair didn’t answer the question but instead coldly said, "Spread rumors, direct the suspicion of Radiance Beauty Spa’s report towards Sienna Monroe, don’t be too direct, just hint enough to cause doubt."

He intended to use this rumor as bait.

Special Assistant Langley, hearing this, was greatly shocked.

Releasing the identity of the Radiance Beauty Spa whistleblower?

Isn’t this... pushing her into the pit?

If the major families were to find out, they’d unite to confront her.

Even though she had the Hughes Family backing her, it would likely be tough to deal with.

So, Mr. Sinclair still couldn’t forgive her actions.

Indeed, putting his mother in prison with her own hands, then deceiving him into signing a share transfer agreement—the humiliation no man could endure.

But he couldn’t help but feel a bit of reluctance, asked no more questions, and said, "Alright, I’ll arrange it well."

Sienna Monroe didn’t answer the call until she reached the hallway.

"Miss Morgan, sorry to keep you waiting." As soon as the call connected, a middle-aged man’s voice greeted her.

"Long time no see." Sienna Monroe got straight to the point, asking, "Have you found Vivian Nash’s whereabouts?"

The man chuckled lightly, "This woman is a bit clever. Initially, I tracked her buying a high-speed train ticket to Hillridge City. She got off at Brookville and finally settled in Solara.

Maybe to avoid those trying to catch her, she didn’t stay in a hotel but rented a small courtyard, didn’t go out for eight or nine days, and just went to the hospital the day before yesterday. I checked the hospital records,

she’s securing the pregnancy and has already shown signs of bleeding. I’ll send you an email later; you can take a look. This case is now closed. Miss Morgan, please transfer the remaining payment to the usual account."

Sienna Monroe furrowed her brows.

June Ewing’s people are still trying to catch Vivian Nash?

Isn’t she already in prison?

But...Vivian Nash being able to run with a pregnancy is quite noteworthy.

She managed to travel 3,600 kilometers from Peridia to Solara.

The fact she’s securing the pregnancy suggests she’ll return with the child.

Upon learning this news, Sienna Monroe felt unexpectedly at ease, said "Thank you," and ended the call.

Within half a minute, the private detective sent an email.

The email contained more than twenty photos.

The images were somewhat blurry, likely due to the distance rather than the resolution.

Among them, two photos showed the outside of a small courtyard, and three with discernible outlines of people.

Even blurry, Sienna Monroe recognized them.

It was Vivian Nash.

There was another photo of a pregnancy diagnosis and Vivian Nash’s hospitalization records.

Detailed enough, to be sure.

When she returned to the ward, the comedy show on the TV was still playing, and as she approached the bed, she noticed the swelling on the back of his hand.

The needle had shifted.

Brows furrowed, she quickly pressed the bell, "The needle shifted, didn’t you notice?"

Listening to her reproving tone, Caleb Sinclair’s earlier gloom dissipated slightly.

Indeed, he deliberately endured the pain of putting the needle at a wrong angle, allowing the back of his hand to swell, just to see her reaction upon returning.

Fortunately...

She didn’t disappoint him.

His deep gaze shifted from her unchanged expression.

Then fell onto his hand, his gentle voice softly saying, "I got too engrossed in the show and didn’t notice. You’re still attentive. Without you... what would I do?"

The last sentence he said tenderly yet poignantly, carrying a thick sense of dependency and a hint of helplessness.

Even the look in his eyes was like that.

He always could switch freely between dark and light emotions, without any pressure.

Almost like having multiple personalities.