Bagot checked his phone and saw several messages from Hannah, all brimming with impatience.
He set the phone aside without responding and turned to Cowan. “How long until I can leave the hospital?”
“The doctor mentioned it should be by next week,” Cowan replied.
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Bagot nodded thoughtfully. “Once I’m discharged, please arrange some valuable gifts. We’ll pay a visit to the Compton family together.”
“Understood, Mr. Delgado. I’ll get the gifts ready,” Cowan affirmed before exiting the room, leaving Bagot alone with his thoughts and his phone.
A peculiar expression danced in his eyes as Bagot read the messages again.
Meanwhile, Hannah, having sent her series of messages on the app, logged out without a second thought about Bagot’s potential response.
With a sense of detachment, she retreated to her room, hoping to indulge in a peaceful nap. However, an unsettling restlessness lingered within her, refusing to grant her the solace of sleep.
Sitting up abruptly, she shook her head as if to dispel her unease, and wandered toward the bathroom.
Splash!
The sound of rushing water filled the space as she turned on the tap, her gaze lost in the swirling vortex of the filling tub.
Events of the past days cascaded through her mind, each more taxing than the last. She felt overwhelmed, stretched too thin.
Absentmindedly, she trailed her fingers through the warm water, before finally shutting off the tap and submerging herself into the bath.
The back of her head rested against the porcelain rim, and she exhaled a deep, weary sigh.
Steam rose in ghostly wisps, veiling the mirror and cloaking the room in a foggy embrace.
The warmth of the bath seeped into her bones, coaxing her into a vulnerable slumber.
But as she drifted off, the water’s embrace grew colder, an icy chill creeping into her body.
Her eyes snapped open.
Panic surged-a tidal wave of cold dread.
For a heart-stopping moment, she was a child again, floundering in the deep, dark waters of the sea. “Help!”
The word tore from her throat, raw and desperate.
Her childhood terror, the memory of nearly drowning, flooded back with merciless clarity. The line between past and present blurred, and when she blinked open her eyes, she saw not the safety of her bathroom but the ominous, unending depths of the ocean. Above her, the surface rippled, distorting the faces of spectral onlookers peering down at her from the shore.
“Hannah! Wake up!”
Plop!