[Yasmine, be good. When Annie wakes up and gives Janna her medicine, she'll be fine. Stop trying to fool me.]

That was the only message Joaquin sent to comfort her—yet even his words were meant for Annie's peace of mind, not her own.

Yasmine's fingers tightened around her phone, the knuckles pale from force. Her heart, however, felt as if it were bleeding.

For Annie's sake, Joaquin could sacrifice anything.

Without hesitation, Yasmine deleted the message and dialed Joaquin's grandfather's number.

"Grandpa Mike, I want a divorce. I'll leave with nothing—but I'm taking Janna with me, and my mother must remain unharmed."

...

When she arrived home, she carried the divorce papers the Romero family's lawyer had prepared for her.

As she opened the door, she overheard Joaquin on the phone, his tone light, arranging flowers and reserving a private dining room at San Diego's most luxurious restaurant.

"Have you thought it through?"

Joaquin ended the call and turned toward her. His gaze softened when he noticed the bruise on her temple. His voice carried a hint of concern, as if nothing had ever happened.

"What happened to your head?"

Yasmine exhaled shakily, reached into her bag, and pulled out the stack of papers.

"I need your signature."

He took them, about to glance through the pages, when his phone buzzed again. The custom ringtone—specifically for Annie—rang through the air. His eyes darkened with worry. Without reading a word, he grabbed the pen and scribbled his signature.

"Annie is in trouble. I'll help her settle it. Afterward, I'll take you to apologize to her."

Yasmine clutched the signed papers, her voice trembling but steady.

"All right."

For a moment, Joaquin seemed dazed, sensing something off about her calm tone. But Annie's frantic sobs came through the phone, and he immediately left, never looking back.

By that afternoon, Yasmine had her divorce certificate in hand.

When she returned home, Joaquin was in the dining room, gently tending to Annie's wounds.

"Annie was in a car accident," he explained flatly. "She needs care, so I brought her home."

Yasmine walked past them, her heels clicking softly against the floor, as though she hadn't heard a word.

"Yasmine, wait."

He grabbed her hand, forcing her to face Annie.

"Apologize."

The words echoed in her skull like thunder. Her fingers turned cold and stiff.

"Forget it, Joaquin," Annie said sweetly. "My injuries aren't serious."

"Yasmine," Joaquin's tone hardened, "even if Annie forgives you, you still have to take responsibility for hurting her."

Hurt her?

The absurdity of it nearly made Yasmine laugh. Was this man truly the father of her child?

She yanked her hand free and turned to leave.

"Yasmine!" He blocked her path, his eyes blazing with fury. "You want your mother to come home, don't you?"

Her ears rang. She could barely breathe.

If she defied him, her mother would suffer again.

"Fine. I'll apologize." She inhaled sharply.

He dragged her back to Annie. Yasmine bowed her head, forcing the words through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you."

Annie smiled faintly. "It's all right, Yasmine. But I'll have to trouble you taking care of me for the next few days."

"Days?" Yasmine's eyes widened.

Joaquin, utterly calm, ordered as if speaking to a servant. "Annie has a mild concussion. You don't need to go to the hospital. Stay home and look after her."

Then he slipped on his jacket and left for his evening social event without another glance.

Not long after, Annie went upstairs and pushed open Yasmine's bedroom door.

"I like this room. Yasmine, run me a bath. I'll rest here tonight."

"If you want to stay, pick another room," Yasmine spat.

Smirking, Annie kicked the back of her knee. At that instant, pain shot up Yasmine's leg, and she fell forward. Annie grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back viciously.

"If you disobey me, your mother and daughter will both die."

Yasmine's scalp burned with pain. Annie flung her aside and sneered.

"Now, change the bedsheets."

Yasmine staggered to her feet, but then she saw Annie pick up a framed photo—a picture of their family of three—and slam it to the floor.

Glass shattered across the tiles. Annie ground her heel over the image.

"Don't touch that! Give it back!"

Yasmine lunged forward, but Annie's stiletto heel came down hard on her hand, pressing deep into her skin.

"Ah—!"

Pain shot up her arm, blood trickling between her fingers.

That photo... it was Janna's favorite.

Gathering what little strength she had left, Yasmine shoved Annie away and snatched the photo. The glass had split it clean in half, a gaping tear across the smiling faces.

The commotion drew Joaquin upstairs.

"What's going on here?"

Annie ran to him in tears, collapsing against his chest.

"Joaquin, Yasmine slapped me and told me to get out. Then she smashed your family photo."

"I knew I shouldn't have come here..."

Rage clouded his face. He struck Yasmine across the cheek with a loud crack.

Her vision blurred, head spinning from the force.

"Yasmine, why did you become like this?!" he thundered.

Yasmine looked at him with a bitter smile. Blood dripped from the back of her injured hand, sliding down her fingers. Only then did Joaquin notice her wound.

“What happened to your hand?”

She laughed softly, her voice trembling with pain. "Why did I become like this? Joaquin, if your eyes are blind, they can be treated. But if your heart is blind—then you're better off dead."

Her words struck him like knives. Joaquin’s scalp tingled, a chill spreading through his chest.

He turned to Annie, ready to question her—but she suddenly went limp, collapsing into his arms.

“Joaquin...” she whimpered weakly, clutching his sleeve. “Take me to the hospital... I’m scared. My heart hurts. I forgot my medicine when I came here...”

Without hesitation, Joaquin gathered her in his arms. His gaze shot toward Yasmine, blazing with accusations.

“You still want to deceive me, Yasmine? You cruel, venomous woman—do you even know Annie has a heart condition?”

Annie rested against his chest, a faint, provocative smile curling on her lips as her eyes met Yasmine’s.

Yasmine felt her heart turn to ice. Joaquin’s expression darkened as he barked an order to the guards.

"Take Madam to the greenhouse," Joaquin spat coldly. "Let her care for the flowers. Give her the medication every hour."

The bodyguards dragged Yasmine down the stairs and threw her into the glass greenhouse.

The heavy scent of pollen choked her lungs. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she struggled to breathe.

"Let me out! Please—let me out!"

Her desperate screams echoed through the night, but no one came. The suffocating scent of flowers filled her lungs—until every breath burned like fire.

With a click, the glass door of the conservatory locked behind her. Sunlight streamed through the panels, harsh and unforgiving. She clutched her nose and mouth tightly, terrified to breathe in the thick, pollen-laden air.

Suddenly, two massive dogs—almost half her height—lunged out from behind the flowerbeds, growling viciously as they charged toward her as if they had not eaten. She froze in terror, her mind went blank. Their snarls reverberated off the glass walls like thunder.

"Let me out! Please, let me out!" Yasmine screamed, pounding on the door.

One of the beasts sank its teeth into her calf. Pain like fire tore through her flesh; she could feel the blood seeping into her shoe. She staggered and gasped, her breath catching as the air filled with choking pollen. The more she tried to breathe, the weaker she became.

"Help... help me..."

Yasmine dragged herself toward the door, pounding weakly against it, but there was no response from outside.

Pain shot through her leg, numbing her entire body until even breathing felt impossible. Her strength slowly ebbed away as she stared blankly at the blinding sunlight filtering through the glass.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before an inhaler was suddenly pressed against her lips.

Yasmine’s hazy mind cleared a little. Relief flooded her—she thought she was finally being saved. She thought she could leave.

But then Joaquin’s hand withdrew the inhaler. Instead, he lifted a handful of pollen and scattered it in front of her face.

She instinctively tried to cover her nose, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned her down. His voice was cold, edged with accusations.

"Do you even know what you've done? Annie is still in the hospital fighting for her life. If she doesn't get a heart donor soon, she might die!"

His eyes burned with fury.

"Yasmine, when did you become so vicious? How could you hurt someone who has a heart condition? You'll stay here until they find a donor. When she gets her heart, you can come out!"

The pollen invaded her lungs again. Her breathing turned ragged, her skin deathly pale. She crumpled to the floor, clutching at his trousers with trembling hands.

"I didn't..."

Joaquin kicked her away, the disgust in his eyes cutting deeper than any wound. She hit the ground hard. The door slammed, locking her inside once more.

—

"Yasmine, wake up."

A familiar voice pierced through the fog. Her body was ice-cold.

She opened her eyes to find Joaquin sitting beside her bed. When he saw her awake, his expression softened slightly.

"Yasmine, are you hungry? I had porridge made for you."

He adjusted the pillows and reached out to help her sit up, but she shoved him away with all her strength.

His face darkened instantly, his tone sharp with anger.

"Yasmine, isn't it enough that you've already hurt Annie this badly? You did wrong—you should pay the price!"

Yasmine's hands twisted in the bedsheet, her voice breaking.

"Joaquin, if you're going to accuse me, at least bring proof! Did you see me hit her?"

"Proof?" he barked. "She's in the hospital, barely alive! Isn't that proof enough?"

He seized her throat, his fingers tightening as he hissed, "Maybe I was too soft on you before. Is that why you've become this kind of woman?"

His grip grew stronger. Her eyes blurred as tears streamed down her face. When he finally released her, she coughed violently, dragging in air with difficulty. The deep bruises on her neck stood out against her pale skin, and even he seemed momentarily unsettled by the sight.

"I don't want to hear your excuses," he said coldly. "You should be grateful Annie woke up. Because of you, people are questioning her medical integrity. You'll appear in public and apologize—prove her innocence."

His words hit her like a bucket of ice water.

Her daughter, Janna, was still in the hospital with severe pneumonia—her condition was uncertain. And now he wanted her to defend the woman who ruined her life?

"Why should I?" she hissed through gritted teeth. "Keep dreaming."

Her nails dug into her palms until they bled, but he merely stared down at her, unbothered.

"Don't forget," he said, voice low and threatening, "your mother's company is still under investigation. Whether she walks out of there safely... depends entirely on you."

The strength drained from her body.

'Depends on me?' she thought.

Hot tears filled her eyes. Every time, Joaquin used Annie to push her into despair. And every time, she was the one who broke.

The bruises on her neck throbbed with every breath.

If someone had to yield, it could only be her.

"...Fine," she whispered hoarsely. "I'll do it. But I want to see my mother first."

Joaquin studied her for a long time, pacing back and forth in silence. Nearly an hour passed before he finally nodded in reluctant agreement.

The butler escorted Yasmine to the venue where the Romero family's press conference was being held.

At the center of the stage, Joaquin sat beside Annie, his expression sharp with warning. The moment Yasmine stepped into view, every light in the room turned toward her.

"I'm here today," she began calmly, "to publicly apologize to Dr. Schultz. For the misunderstanding I caused her, I sincerely apologize."

Annie descended from the stage, a faint, gracious smile curving her lips as she grabbed Yasmine's arm.

"Since you've apologized, let's put the past behind us."

Her voice was sweet, but her grip was cruelly tight—Yasmine tried to pull away, only to realize she couldn't.

"I need to use the restroom, come with me," Annie said with a smile.

"Then let Joaquin accompany you," Yasmine flatly replied.

Annie shook her head. "Joaquin still has work to do. I'll be fine as long as Yasmine takes care of me."

Dozens of eyes were watching. Under that pressure, Yasmine could only comply.

She waited outside the restroom on the second floor, arms crossed, when a masked man suddenly rushed toward her—a glinting knife in his hand.

Her breath hitched in terror. She spun toward the staircase to flee—only to find another man waiting there, a jagged scar slashing across his cheek.

The scarred man swung a baseball bat—

Crack!

Pain exploded across her forehead.

Yasmine staggered, clutching her head, her knees buckling.

Before she could rise, another blow landed brutally on her shoulder and abdomen.

"Someone... help... me..." Her voice trembled, fading to a whisper. Through her blurring vision, she thought she saw someone rushing up the stairs.

"What are you doing?!"

The shouting grew distant, muffled, until the world went completely dark.

"Yasmine! Yasmine, wake up! Don't be scared—I'm taking you to the hospital!"

When she opened her eyes again, the world was washed in sterile blue. Curtains, walls, light—everything blurred together. Pain rippled through every nerve.

"Yasmine... you're awake."

Joaquin's voice came faintly. He barely glanced at her before focusing on his phone, brows drawn tight.

"Yasmine, you went to the restroom with Annie. Where is she now?"

His tone was sharp, interrogative. Yasmine froze. So that was why he'd been waiting for her to wake up—not out of worry, but to ask about Annie.

"I don't know," she said coldly.

He frowned. "You're not lying to me, are you?"

Yasmine let out a hollow laugh. Seven years of marriage, and there wasn't a shred of trust left between them.

"Joaquin, I only found out today that you held the press conference here. I'm the one who got attacked. Are you sure the people who ambushed me weren't sent by Annie?"

His eyes widened, disbelief flooding his face. "Yasmine! Don't project your own malice onto everyone else!"

"The attackers were targeting you. But now she's the one missing—and you still have the nerve to suspect her? Have you no conscience at all?"

His voice broke into anger, trembling with outrage—not for Yasmine, but for Annie.

Yasmine's lips curved into a bitter smile. Of course. Annie would always be his pure, untouchable "first love." And she—Yasmine—was nothing more than a discarded rag doll, always to blame, never believed.

She'd already grown used to disappointment. So this time, she didn't bother explaining.

After a long silence, his voice softened. "Yasmine, I know you've been unhappy lately. Once her medication research is approved and hits the market, I'll take you and Janna abroad for a break, alright?"

Her gaze remained steady, empty.

He said the same thing every year. And every year, he broke his promise.

Now their daughter was seven—and she no longer believed a word he said.

At the door, Joaquin's fingers tapped furiously on his phone. His brows knitted tighter by the second. Then, suddenly, a message popped up on the screen—whatever it said made his face darken instantly.