Annika took a couple of steps forward and peered inside. The sight that greeted her was horrific: a gruesome trail of vivid blood snaked from the doorway to the bed. Dr. Turner was pressing styptic powder onto the wrist Serena had cut, trying to staunch the bleeding.
Serena, however, was in a state of uncontrollable agitation. She struggled violently, making it nearly impossible for the doctor to treat her. Conrad had to step in, bending over and holding her down firmly. “Serena, don’t do this,” he pleaded, his voice trembling.
His suit jacket and trousers were stained with her blood. He must have carried her from the floor to the bed just before Dr. Turner arrived.
But Conrad’s comfort did nothing to soothe Serena’s wounded spirit. “Let me go!” she shrieked. “I want… to die.”
Suddenly, Serena’s gaze met Annika’s at the doorway. Her struggling paused for a second, then resumed with even greater, more frantic intensity. She shoved Dr. Turner away, wrenched herself from Conrad’s grasp, and lunged desperately toward Annika. “You hate me, Annika! You want me dead, don’t you?”
Her voice was a piercing shriek. “Well, now you have your wish! I have nothing left—my reputation, my standing, it’s all gone! I’m not worthy of Conrad anymore! This is all what you wanted, isn’t it? You got what you wished for, you vicious woman!”
Serena was like a madwoman. Her hair was a mess, her lips were pale, and her face was twisted into a terrifying snarl as she threw herself at Annika.


VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: His Regret Arrived Three Days Late