She Killed to Marry Rich

Samson Carroll's father, who is the CEO of Carroll Group, is hospitalized, and my sister decides to return to the hospital to work as a nurse.

She throws herself into the role—donating blood, helping with emergencies, and keeping watch at his bedside around the clock. Soon, everyone's calling her a hero in scrubs.

One night, she blocks the hospital room's security camera. She plans to kill the patient and forge a will so that Samson will marry her.

I tell her it's too dangerous. The Carrolls are an influential family with deep pockets and powerful connections, after all. A few kind words and a forged will aren't enough to sway them.

But she lashes out at me, calling me an idiot. She says that everyone in Jansbury knows Samson does whatever his father tells him to do. I drag her home, still trying to talk sense into her.

"The Carroll family has ties to both the authorities and the underworld. They're untouchable," I explain. "If Samson finds out you lied to him, the consequences are unimaginable."

Halfway home, she grows increasingly agitated.

"Tonight was my only chance, and you ruined it! You're just jealous I'm about to become a rich man's wife! Go to hell!"

Then, in a fit of rage, she shoves me into an open manhole by the side of the road. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the night I brought her dinner at the hospital.

I stood silently outside the hospital room, watching until the heart monitor flatlined. The room fell still. Only Priscilla Jensen was inside, sitting at Albert Carroll's side.

She held his hand as she finished writing out his will, then removed his oxygen mask. Everything had been taken care of before he took his final breath.

A flash of excitement crossed Priscilla's face as she placed the document neatly on the bed. But the very next second, she broke into tears and called out for help.

"Something's wrong! Somebody get in here!" she yelled. In a flash, doctors and bodyguards rushed in from just a few feet away.

"Quick! Start CPR! Harder!" a doctor barked.

The machines roared to life, pounding at Albert's chest. Soon, the room erupted into chaos. Right then, Priscilla stepped forward.

"There's still a chance. Take my blood!" she cried out as a syringe was already being pushed into her arm.

She had been donating blood for days. Her face had gone ghostly pale, and her body was too weak to keep up. Thus, the needle drew barely anything.

The doctors told her they couldn't take any more, yet there was no alternative. Albert's blood type was rare, and Priscilla was the only match.

Just two days ago, it seemed like he was out of danger. But now, he had slipped back into a coma. In desperation, Priscilla grabbed five more syringes and plunged them into her own arm.

"Take more. Get more syringes!" she instructed. "His life comes first. I'm a nurse. I'll be fine."

Urgency tightened her features, and she showed no concern for her well-being. Everyone around her watched in alarm. Then, someone whispered, "Hang in there, Priscilla."

Sweat beaded across her forehead. She managed to give nearly a pint of blood before her body gave out. In the next moment, she collapsed.

Outside the room, a crowd gathered—reporters, doctors, and specialists whom Samson Carroll had flown in overnight from abroad.

Meanwhile, cameras flashed without pause as Priscilla lay unconscious in the room.

"Mr. Carroll, it was her. She gave everything to save your father. She hasn't woken up," someone reported to Samson.

"Was she the one with him at the end?" asked Samson.

The person replied, "Yes. Mr. Carroll Senior was especially fond of Ms. Jensen."

Something unreadable flickered in Samson's eyes at those words. Unfortunately, not even the best specialists could bring a man back from the dead. Albert was pronounced dead not long after.

The room filled with cries of grief, and news of his passing shook all of Jansbury.

At that moment, Priscilla's body trembled as she slowly came to. She tried to slip out quietly, pushing through the crowd.

She couldn't draw attention to herself. Only in silence would the Carrolls remember what she had done.

Still, she feigned weakness. Her steps were slow and unsteady, dragging one foot behind the other. Then, Samson's voice came from behind her. "Wait."

Priscilla waved him off, saying, "It's fine. Even if it took every drop of blood in me, I still would've done it."

Suddenly, an assistant took the will from the bed and handed it to Samson. However, he merely glanced at it once before tucking it away.

"Get someone to take Ms. Jensen back. Make sure nothing happens to her," he ordered.