3

Venice’s POV

My strength gave out completely, and soon, I collapsed to the floor.

“Jericho!”

I screamed his name and rushed forward. With every fiber of my being, I slapped him across the face.

Never—not even in my worst nightmares—had I imagined he could go this far for Verona.

Swallowing my tears, I turned to leave. But before I could take a step, he grabbed me roughly by the arm.

His expression was devoid of warmth, his voice sharp and cold as steel.

“Hey. You haven’t signed the letter of understanding. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Fine,” I replied, my voice trembling. There was no strength left in me to even expect anything from him.

Five minutes later, a new copy of the letter was brought in.

Outside the hospital, my mom still lay on the concrete, and the medical staff trying to save her were being held back by Jericho’s bodyguards.

I didn’t even look at him anymore. My gaze was hollow as I picked up the pen and signed my name—stroke by stroke—on that cursed paper.

“Now,” I said quietly, “can I go?”

When I looked at him, my eyes were as cold as his.

His brows knitted together. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something.

But Verona tugged at his sleeve, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Jericho,” she whimpered, “my wound… It really hurts.”

Just those few words, and his entire demeanor changed. His face tightened with concern as he swept her up into his arms and hurried out of the room.

By the time I made it downstairs, my mom was barely clinging to life.

With shaking hands, I pushed her gurney toward the operating room.

The red light above the door flicked on, and my heart seemed to hang suspended in the air with it.

I thought the nightmare might finally end there. But only three minutes later, a group of bodyguards stormed into the operating room and dragged the attending surgeon out.

I froze, my eyes wide in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing?!”

They looked at me coldly.

“Mr. Fowler has ordered all doctors to check on Ms. MacGill’s injury first. Once she’s confirmed stable, we’ll bring the attending physician back.”

Her wound was no fucking bigger than a fingernail, yet they were stealing my mom’s only chance to survive!

The thought shattered what little control I had left. My eyes burned as I lunged forward to stop them from taking the doctor away.

“Let him go! My mom’s still in surgery! Tell Jericho—if anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive any of you!”

But my words did nothing at all. One of the guards just gave a mocking smile.

“Ma'am, those were Mr. Fowler’s direct orders. If you have a problem, take it up with him.”

Without wasting any more time, they shoved me aside and dragged the doctor away.

The force of it slammed my head against the sharp edge of a metal chair. Warm blood streamed down my face in an instant, but I barely felt it.

At that moment, the red light above the operating room flickered and went out. Then, the machines inside began to beep in a chaotic rhythm.

Summoning every last ounce of strength, I pushed myself off the floor and stumbled after the guards.

I had to bring the doctor back.

If I didn’t… I would lose the only family I had left…

4

Venice’s POV

I stumbled forward, barely keeping my balance.

“Jericho! Bring back my mom’s attending doctor!”

My voice came out raw and strained from my parched throat.

When Jericho saw the cuts and bruises on my face, his brows knitted tightly together.

“How did you manage to get yourself into this state?”

He reached out, trying to touch the wound on my cheek, but I jerked back before his fingers could make contact.

Gripping his sleeve with all my strength, I said, my voice trembling with desperation, “Jericho! Mom’s still in surgery while Verona only has a minor injury! You can’t do this to my mom!”

By the end, my voice broke completely.

But as I spoke, his expression only grew colder, his eyes hardening with indifference.

“Enough, Venice,” he snapped. “It seems you still haven’t learned your lesson. I just spoke to the attending doctor—your mom’s injuries aren’t serious. And besides, she’s unconscious now. She can’t even feel pain.”

His tone softened slightly as he turned toward the operating room, his eyes full of tenderness.

“Do you have any idea that the push you gave Verona injured her hand? She’s a doctor. Are you trying to ruin her career?”

A bitter laugh escaped me at his question.

“You mean a doctor who puts her patients into a coma on purpose? Losing her so-called career would be a blessing to everyone.”

At that, his face snapped back to me, his eyes burning with fury.

“Venice, I already told you—Verona didn’t do it on purpose. And her hand injury is on you. Until she recovers, the attending doctor won’t be returning.”

It was a death sentence, spoken without mercy.

My vision blurred red, rage and despair blinding me. I glared at him, and then I charged toward the operating room.

The next second, Jericho shoved me aside without hesitation.

My head slammed against the corner of the wall. In an instant, blood gushed down my face, and my so-called husband only looked at me coldly.

“Somebody take her to the hospital morgue to cool off. Once Verona’s hand has healed, you can release her.”

His tone was edged with brutal finality.

I used all my strength to struggle to my feet, still trying to run toward the operating room. But his men forced me to the floor.

Dragged down the hall toward the morgue, I couldn’t hold back anymore; tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.

“Jericho, please! Verona’s injury isn’t serious! Let my mom’s doctor finish her surgery first. I’m begging you! Mom fell from the seventh floor, Jericho! No matter the cushioning, her injuries must be severe! Please, save her, I’m begging you!”

My fingers clawed at anything I could reach, leaving streaks of blood behind.

But Jericho only looked at me, his eyes devoid of any sympathy.

“When Verona’s hand heals, she’ll operate on your mom again. Your mom will recover, and Verona’s reputation in the medical field will be restored. It’s a win-win.”

That made my pupils shrink, and I trembled all over.

“No, Jericho, you can’t do this! I’ll hate you for it! If anything happens to my mom, I will never forgive you!”

In the end, my cries and struggles were still useless.

He just stood there, watching coldly as I was dragged away to the morgue.

The heavy door slammed shut behind me, and the air at ten degrees below zero wrapped around my body like a shroud.

I couldn’t hold on any longer. It didn’t take long before my vision went black, and I collapsed to the floor.

5

Venice’s POV

When I woke up again, I hadn’t even opened my eyes before I heard movement coming from the morgue.

Two nurses were pushing a stretcher inside. On it lay a body covered with a white sheet.

“This poor lady,” one of them sighed. “She was already in a coma, and they still threw her off the seventh floor. If there hadn’t been something below to break the fall, she would’ve died on the spot.”

At his words, my chest tightened painfully.

A moment later, another voice spoke.

“Honestly, it might’ve been better if she had died right then. Sure, she survived and got sent to surgery, but halfway through, the doctor got called away. I heard this patient actually regained consciousness near the end—only for a few minutes—then died in agony.”

“Right, and don’t tell anyone I said this,” he added, lowering his voice. “I heard, during the surgery, Dr. MacGill told the anesthesiologist to use only half the normal dose. This poor lady woke up mid-surgery. Dr. MacGill did it on purpose—to make this patient suffer before putting her into a coma…”

The two of them shuddered.

“Let’s go. Guess she had no one powerful behind her. That’s why she ended up with such a tragic death like this.”

Soon, the morgue door slammed shut. The sound pierced straight through my chest, sharp as a thousand arrows.

My body trembled as I forced myself to stand. Slowly, I lifted the white sheet.

Underneath it was the face I knew best in the world.

For a moment, everything inside me shattered. I thought I had already endured the worst—that what my mom and I had gone through was cruel enough.

But I never imagined there was so much more hidden behind it all.

My mom… She lost her attending doctor and died in unbearable pain—fully conscious to the very end!

Tears streamed down my face, falling onto hers, as if trying to bring her some warmth.

I couldn’t stop shaking. Every part of my body hurt.

Through my blurred vision, I thought I saw her gentle hand reaching out to me.

She touched my head softly, tears of love and sorrow glistening in her eyes.

She had always been like this—patient, forgiving, loving.

Every “first” in my life, she was the first to know.

When I first got together with Jericho, she had warned me.

“I just don’t think he loves you that much, Venice. I’m your mom, sweetheart. I want your husband to love you more than you love him, not the other way around.”

That worried look on her face—it’s still burned into my memory.

Back then, I was stubborn. I argued with her without hesitation, blindly diving into my so-called love with Jericho.

Now, I’ve finally paid the price.

No, she paid the price I was supposed to pay.

When the bell outside tolled, I collapsed over my mom’s body, sobbing bitterly.

Three days later, Jericho’s bodyguards finally released me.

I was burning with fever, and after several IV drips, I struggled to lift myself.

But I couldn’t afford to collapse. Not yet. I still had to take care of my mom’s funeral.

Once everything was settled, I returned to the villa.

During the time I was locked in the morgue, Verona’s wounds had already healed.

Jericho had taken her on yacht trips, bought her a private island, and even named it after her.

He’d also gifted her a villa of her own.

I saw it all on Instagram.

Once, that might have crushed me and left me gasping for air.

But now, my heart was numb.

My mom’s death had taken with it every bit of love I ever had for Jericho.

All I wanted now was to divorce him, sell every Fowler Corporation share in my hands, and leave him with absolutely nothing!

After gathering my documents, I headed straight to the county clerk’s office with the prenuptial agreement Jericho had signed before.

According to the paper, I didn’t need his permission for the divorce—as long as the contract was valid.

I handed all the paperwork to the clerk.

A moment later, they looked up at me in surprise.

“Ma’am, according to our system, you’re already listed as divorced. And the man tied to your submitted ID… He’s… currently married.”

My eyes widened at that news.

“What? Who’s his spouse?”

The clerk hesitated, a trace of pity crossing her face.

“Ma’am, about a month ago, this gentleman ended his marriage with you and remarried—his new wife, one with the last name MacGill.”