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Tangled in his Obsession novel Chapter 386

Seraphina bailed out from Reynolds Manor, hurried to the apartment address that Terrell had provided.

Terrell himself waited downstairs. Upon seeing Seraphina, he didn’t fuss much, just gave her a simple run-down, "The apartment has only one entrance and exit, same goes for the underground parking, which makes it pretty easy to keep an eye on. If you’re tailing someone, it should be a piece of cake.”

Seraphina flashed a thumbs-up, then said, “It’s getting late, you should head back and get some rest.”

Terrell nodded, turned to leave.

Just as their cars were about to part ways, Seraphina tossed Terrell a pack of cigarettes, “Thanks a bunch!”

Terrell raised an eyebrow, nonchalantly pocketed the cigarettes and drove off.

Seraphina’s next task was still to wait.

And she waited for three days.

No sign of Bowen or Sandra.

Abbot got a little antsy, couldn’t help but say to Seraphina, “Ma’am, are we sure we’re not barking up the wrong tree?”

Seraphina, still keeping her eyes peeled on the apartment entrance, whispered, “I trust Terrell.”

As if it was fate’s arrangement, that afternoon, Seraphina’s faith was rewarded.

At two in the afternoon, a middle-aged woman came out from the apartment building. The moment Seraphina laid eyes on her, she snapped into high alert.

After a moment, Seraphina told Abbot, “Track her. See where she’s headed.”

Abbot followed her gaze and gasped, “That woman?”

“Yep.” Seraphina confirmed.

That night at Una Villa, she remembered three faces — Sandra in the car, and the two who had covered her mouth and dragged her into the darkness.

She remembered clearly, this middle-aged woman was one of them.

The woman hailed a cab. Without a second thought, Abbot whipped out his phone and gave the order.

Once the woman was gone, everything was back to normal. Seraphina still sat quietly in the car, keeping an eye on the apartment.

That night, besides the driver and this woman, there was another middle-aged man in the car.

Clearly, he was a butler and she was a nanny. They were both taking care of Sandra, but also watching and controlling her.

For that reason, their every move should have something to do with Sandra.

Having one of Abbot’s guys tail this woman should be enough.

Seraphina still waited under the apartment, quietly.

About two hours later, the woman returned to the apartment, carrying a paper bag.

Through her binoculars, Seraphina saw the logo on the paper bag — Silverlake General Hospital.

At the same time, Abbot’s guy reported, "Ma’am, the woman went to Silverlake General Hospital, saw a neurology specialist, and brought back some meds.”

Neurology, specialist, meds…

Seraphina kept these keywords in mind, thinking quietly.

Around dusk, Bowen’s car, which hadn’t been seen for a while, suddenly appeared outside the apartment, then drove into the underground parking.

About an hour later, Bowen’s car left the apartment.

These busy in-and-out behaviors left people unprepared.

Seraphina quietly observed from the side, a guess started to form in her mind.

“If someone you care about is sick, what would you do?” Seraphina asked Abbot.

Abbot thought for a moment, “Of course I’d take her to see a doctor.”

“And what if she doesn’t want to go to the hospital?”

Abbot thought about the bag of medicine the middle-aged woman was carrying earlier, slowly said, “Then...bring the meds back for her to take.”

“And what if she doesn’t want to take the meds?”

Abbot frowned, then said, “Can’t let her do whatever she wants. At crucial moments, I would use all means, even force her to the hospital.”

Hearing this, Seraphina took a deep breath.

...

Silverlake General Hospital was a famous high-end private hospital in Sunburst City, all the doctors were industry elites, many of them famous.

Unlike the bustling patient flow in public hospitals, Silverlake General Hospital was orderly and quiet.

In the spacious doctors’ office hallway, a young woman accompanied by a middle-aged man and woman, walked into the office of a renowned neurology specialist.

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