Pampered by my three brothers: the return of the neglected heiress novel Chapter 725

Chapter 725: In thirty minutes, it would be over.

Meanwhile...

Sven paced back and forth, nervously biting the tip of his thumb. He held his phone, checking it constantly. He had been restless and anxious, breaking out of sweats even though the temperature of his ward was perfect enough to keep him cool.

"Why aren’t they responding?" he muttered to himself, his voice shaking uncontrollably. "I told them I needed help."

He clenched his teeth, grinding them in frustration. He had already sent his mother away, telling her he was more comfortable alone now. Though his mother wasn’t pleased and she was reluctant, the doctor had reassured her that they would look after him.

"Damn it, damn it," he hissed. "Don’t tell me they expect me to handle all of this by myself?!"

Sven’s eyes glinted darkly as he glanced up at the ceiling. From what he knew, Allen’s private room was directly above his.

"That bastard... how dare they put him in a more exclusive ward than mine?" he grumbled, resenting the preferential treatment Allen seemed to receive. This alone highlighted the difference in their importance, and it wasn’t sitting well with him.

"I even hung myself because of him, but Atlas is just showing who he favors more," he growled, glaring at his phone. "Why aren’t they responding? Had he forsaken me now? Isn’t he afraid of me talking?!"

Sven waited longer, but when his last shred of patience burned out, he threw his phone onto the bed. His eyes hardened, and he balled his hands into fists. He’d promised the person who had ordered him to do this that he would silence Allen.

Not that Sven had much of a choice.

Once Allen woke up and started talking, it would be over for Sven. Even if he fled the country now, he knew that the person he was dealing with would silence him instead.

"I already did it once." Sven ran a hand through his hair, pacing again to calm his nerves. "I already hurt him, and if he hadn’t been found, he would’ve died."

Technically, Sven had tried to kill someone for his own sake. Doing it again shouldn’t be that hard, right?

"But how?" he wondered aloud. "He’s heavily guarded. Atlas has all these bodyguards around his ward like he’s some important person."

Bitterness swelled in his chest as he sat on the edge of the bed, gripping his hair in frustration. Tonight wouldn’t be his first attempt. The previous ones had been thwarted because of the many guards around. He couldn’t even get near Allen’s ward.

Besides, if he tried again and was caught, they’d know he was the culprit. He needed a plan — a better one.

"Shit, shit, shit..." he muttered to himself, nearly at his wit’s end. "I can’t keep this up. The more I delay, the more chances he has to wake up."

[Midnight. Ward at the end of your floor. Good luck.]

"Midnight... ward at the end of my floor..." he repeated under his breath, a deep furrow between his brows. "Midnight... ward at the end of my floor..."

Slowly, Sven looked down at the syringe and vial in his hand. Although the message didn’t specify what it was for, he knew this was what he needed for his sinister plan. The corner of his mouth stretched into a twisted grin, realizing that the man had finally sent him help.

"Hehe... hehe... hahaha!" His giggles turned into a manic laugh as he ran his fingers through his hair again. Sven had to cover his face with one hand, unable to stop laughing.

Deep down, he wasn’t sure why he was laughing. Was it because his chances of success had just skyrocketed, or because he was losing his mind? Either way, he knew that if he did this right, he’d be safe.

"Heh." Sven’s eyes snapped open, a sinister glint flickering within them. He glanced up at the wall clock, his lips curling into a cunning smirk. "Thirty minutes from now... my problems will be gone.... Forever."

He rocked his head back, chuckling at the thought. "In thirty minutes, I’ll be free of all of this."

In thirty minutes, the source of his anxiety would vanish, and Allen would take Sven’s sins to the grave. Dead men tell no tales, and Sven was beginning to grasp a deeper meaning in that saying.

So Sven gripped the syringe and vial patiently, his eyes glued to the clock. He stared at the minute hand, holding his breath as he watched it inch closer to twelve. The moment the clock struck midnight, Sven swung his legs off the bed, ready to put his plan into action.