Chapter 245

Chapter 245:

“Okay,” Fernanda nodded.

She slipped through the hospital’s side door, skirted the outpatient services, and made her way toward the inpatient wards at the back.

The elevator area outside the inpatient department was crowded with people. Fernanda glanced at the queue and figured it might take two or three rounds before she could get on. Deciding it wasn’t worth the wait, she opted to take the stairs instead; Neal was on the sixth floor.

At the landing between the third and fourth floors, Fernanda heard strange noises.

It was the sound of a man’s heavy breathing and a woman’s muffled moans.

She paused, contemplating whether to continue.

Fernanda had heard jokes of couples sneaking into such stairwells for intimate moments.

Even though she wasn’t especially shy, she couldn’t bring herself to walk past a couple in such an awkward moment. It felt too embarrassing. She turned back, deciding to wait for the elevator to avoid disturbing them.

However, just a few steps down, Fernanda was startled by the unmistakable sounds of a violent altercation. It seemed the situation had escalated unexpectedly.

“Ugh, let go!”

The sharp cry of the woman, laced with panic and fear, reverberated down the stairwell, sending shivers down Fernanda’s spine.

Fernanda abruptly stopped.

That voice—it was disturbingly familiar.

“Let go of me!” the woman screamed again, her voice raw and sharp, cutting through the silence.

This time, Fernanda recognized it unmistakably—it was Bonita.

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Without a second thought, she spun around and bolted up the stairs. A series of heavy thuds echoed from above, like someone was violently slamming into the wall.

Fernanda’s heart raced as she rounded one corner, then another. Finally, she saw them. The sight froze her in place for a moment, utterly shocking.

The sound she had heard wasn’t someone hitting the wall. It was Beckett, his hands gripping Bonita’s shoulders as he slammed her against it with terrifying force.

Bonita’s face was a picture of pure agony, her features twisted in pain as though she was suffering beyond what words could express, unable to even let out a cry.

Fernanda dashed forward, grabbing Beckett’s hand in an attempt to pry him off her, but his grip was like iron, the veins in his hand bulging from the force.

He glared at Bonita with bloodshot eyes, his stare full of venom and hatred, as though she were his worst enemy.

Beckett, enraged by Fernanda’s interference, clenched his fist and lashed out at her.

Fernanda sidestepped just in time, and his punch landed against the wall.

In that moment, it was obvious Beckett had completely lost his composure.

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