?Chapter 222:

    Vincent entered the room carrying an insted lunch bag.

    Surprise spread across Katelyn’s face when she saw him. “Mr. Adams?”

    She recalled how she had always been the one to bring things to Vincent when he was hospitalized, but today, it was Vincent who had brought something for her. This made her wonder if he also knew how to cook.

    Vincent approached her and exined in a matter-of-fact tone, “I had someone pick up some carrot ginger soup, good for you.”

    As soon as he lifted the lid, the scent of ginger wafted up, causing her face to twist with displeasure. There was no other ingredient she despised more than ginger, especially in ginger soup. She would rather drink anything else than a single drop of this putrid dish.

    She immediately retreated under the quilt, leaving only her eyes visible, struggling to find her voice.

    “Mr. Adams, please leave the soup on the table. I’ll have itter.”

    Though her response was odd, to say the least, Vincent decided not to dwell on it. He set the soup on the table and looked at her.

    “How many have youpleted?”

    After a moment’s thought, she replied, “I’ve sent each finished drawing to your email. I’vepleted six themes so far, and there are still two more, which I can finish by tomorrow at thetest.”

    He nodded and leaned back in his chair, a shadow passing over his eyes.

    “Alright. Theunch event might be moved up. I’ll inform you as soon as it’s decided.”

    She gave him a thumbs-up. “Okay, Mr. Adams.”

    Realizing the subject had changed, she exhaled quietly in relief. Afterward, he stood up to leave, but he suddenly paused and turned back to look at her again.

    Your next tale lives on g ? lnσ ν?? ?s,

    “Make sure to drink the soup.”

    A trace of bitterness crossed her face. She forced a smile and asked, “Do I really have to drink it? Just the scent of ginger is enough to make me puke!”

    Ginger had always been the spice she hated since she was a child. Every time she caught a whiff of ginger, it made her feel nauseous. She always admired people who could eat ginger as a snack.

    Seeing the miserable look on her face, Vincent chuckled and said, “Yes, but ginger is good for your health.”

    She remained curled up under the quilt, trying to negotiate with him. “I’ll wait for the soup to cool down, then.”

    “Alright,” he replied.

    Meanwhile, in the next ward, Neil opened the door and entered, noticing Lise, dressed in a hospital gown, sitting in front of aputer, focused on her work. He decided not to interrupt her. Instead, he quietly walked over and saw that she was drawing something. She was carefully adding details to the design.

    The drawing was intricate and well-crafted, and a hint of admiration appeared in his eyes. He wondered why he had never known that Lise was such a talented designer. Although she had shown him a few sketches before as backups, it still amazed him to see her drawing them herself.

    Lise waspletely absorbed in her work. The sunlight streamed in through the window, and her focused expression struck him deeply. But what truly caught his eye was a small red logo in the bottom right corner of theputer screen.

    A wave of shock ran through him, causing his body to tremble. He recognized it the second he saw it. That logo was Iris’s signature.

    This could only mean that Lise was the real Iris. Otherwise, how could she have such a high level of design skill? The logo was undeniable proof.

    She seemed unaware of his presence, continuing to draw with full concentration. It wasn’t until he could no longer contain his excitement and called out that she finally turned around.

    The moment she caught sight of him, panic briefly crossed her face. Her hand moved almost reflexively to shut down theputer.

    With guilt flickering in her eyes, she forced a bright smile and said, “Neil, when did youe in? You made no sound at all. You scared me!”

    That one simple action was enough to confirm his suspicions. He stepped closer, excitement clear in his voice. “Lise, tell me the truth, you’re Iris, aren’t you?”

    Her distress became more evident as anxiety took over. Her eyes darted from his, too unsettled to hold his gaze. “Neil, umm…” Lise struggled to find the right words to say.

    The look of astonishment in his eyes grew stronger. Just as he began to speak again, her phone abruptly rang.

    .

    .

    .