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.

"Yasmine! You still dare say you didn't lie to me?!" Joaquin's furious roar filled the hospital room as he hurled his phone toward the woman on the bed.

The phone struck the metal railing with a sharp clang, the sound echoing in her ears until everything buzzed.

"Look at it clearly!" he shouted. "See for yourself what this is!"

On the screen played a video sent by his assistant—A woman wearing Yasmine's limited-edition coat was handing a thick envelope of cash to the scarred man who had beaten her unconscious.

"Yasmine, have I not treated you well enough? Do you really need Annie dead before you can feel satisfied?!"

He jabbed a finger toward the screen, voice trembling with rage.

"This coat—this exact coat—is the one I bought you for your birthday last year in France. And you wore it... to do this! To hire thugs?"

Joaquin's hand shot out, seizing Yasmine's chin so tightly his fingers dug into her skin. Hatred blazed in his eyes, dark and suffocating.

Yes, the coat was hers.

But half a year ago, when she brought Janna to the hospital, she'd been attacked and robbed. Her clothes, her bag, even her identification were all gone.

"The woman in that video isn't me," she said through clenched teeth.

"You're still denying it?!" His grip tightened, his nails slicing into her cheek until beads of blood welled up.

"If it's not you, then who else could it be? Annie is kind and innocent—you're the one who can't stand her!"

Yasmine's face was pale, her expression cold and lifeless. "Joaquin, I said—it's not me."

But he didn't listen.

He dragged her out of the hospital, shoving her into the car, and drove her to an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city.

The moment they arrived, he grabbed an iron rod and slammed it against a concrete pillar with a deafening clang!

"Mom!" Yasmine screamed when she saw her mother bound and trembling nearby.

"Joaquin! Don't touch my mother! Don't you dare!"

Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded, voice breaking. "I didn't do anything! I don't know why Annie disappeared—please, I really don't know!"

Her nails dug into her palms until blood pooled in her fists. She couldn't believe this man—the one she'd loved and trusted for over a decade—could look at her with such hatred.

"Ten seconds," Joaquin said coldly. "If you don't tell me where Annie is, I'll strike once. Your mother has a weak heart—how many blows do you think she can survive?"

"Tell me where she is, and I'll let your mother go."

Yasmine stumbled forward, only for him to grab her arm and twist it violently.

Crack!

Her shoulder dislocated, and he flung her to the ground like trash.

"I said—where is she!" he roared.

Enduring the pain, Yasmine gasped, "Joaquin, we've known each other for more than ten years—I've never lied to you! My mother has nothing to do with this! Her company is gone. She's lost everything—please, just let her go!"

She trembled, clutching her injured arm, kneeling at his feet as she begged.

But ten seconds passed.

And Joaquin raised the iron rod.

"No!"

Yasmine broke free from his grip, throwing herself over her mother's frail body.

The iron rod came crashing down—

Bang!

A sickening sound tore through the air.

Yasmine's body convulsed, her head snapping back as cold sweat drenched her forehead. The strength drained from her arms, but she still shielded her mother with her body.

Thud.

Her lips turned ashen, pain shooting through her back, crawling up her spine until every breath burned.

It hurt so much.

Blood spread across the back of her white blouse, the crimson soaking through the fabric, vivid and horrifying.

"Yasmine! Are you okay?"

Joaquin's voice trembled as he knelt and lifted her into his arms. Just then, his phone rang—it was his assistant.

"Sir, Miss Annie has been found," came the voice on the other end. "But she's seriously injured and still unconscious at the hospital."

Joaquin froze, eyes darting to the photo on his screen—Annie's head wrapped in gauze. His expression shifted from fear to shock, then to guilt.

He carefully laid Yasmine back on the ground and called for an ambulance.

"Yasmine," he said quietly, "wait here. I've already called an ambulance for you."

He stood up, voice low, trembling slightly.

"When you're discharged... I'll come pick you up."