Lyndon knew that voice too well.
It was Tildaâs voice, unmistakably so.
Lyndon froze as Elmaâs voice called out Tildaâs name in distress.
He spun around to see Tilda standing right in front of him.
Her face drained of color, a pair of scissors jutting out from her back.
Her white clothes were smeared with blood.
She had been stabbed.
Lyndonâs eyes narrowed in shock.
Acting swiftly, he delivered a forceful kick to Evita, who was reaching for the scissors lodged in Tildaâs back.
His gaze turned cold and unforgiving.
Evita collapsed to the floor, dazed and unable to get back up.
Her attendant, who had come with her to the hospital, hurried over to help.
âMiss, are you okay?â the attendant asked urgently.
Evita winced, holding her abdomen as she struggled to stand.
Glancing at Tilda, the attendant exclaimed anxiously to Evita, âMiss, youâve hurt someone! What should we do?â
Evita had rushed into action a moment ago, but now, with Lyndonâs cold stare fixed on her, she was shaking with fear.
âWe need to leave, now!â she said frantically.
Meanwhile, Elma supported Tilda.
âTilda, how are you feeling?â she asked, her voice trembling with worry.
Tilda managed a faint smile.
âIâm okay.
Donât worry.
â
Okay?
Her face was as pale as a sheet!
Lyndonâs lips tightened in a grim line.
Ignoring Evitaâs attempts to flee, he handed Sheldon to Elma.
âElma, take care of Sheldon.
Iâll get Tilda to a doctor,â he said firmly.
Tilda needed medical attention urgently.