"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."

Yasmine and her mother were rushed to the hospital.

Just as the nurses wheeled her mother toward the operating room, an impatient voice cut through the hallway—

"Go call the doctor out!"

"Annie says she's not feeling well—what's your doctor doing?"

"Mr. Romero," the head nurse tried to explain, flustered, "two of our surgeons are currently on training assignments. The only available doctor right now... is the one performing surgery on your wife's mother."

On the bench nearby, Yasmine sat pale and trembling, clutching her bleeding back as she stared at Joaquin.

Her mother had suffered another heart attack and a shattered collarbone.

Annie was merely "feeling unwell." And yet Joaquin couldn't decide whom to save.

Yasmine lowered her head in despair. Warm blood continued to soak through her gown, her breathing growing shallow until her body finally gave way. She collapsed onto the cold, sterile floor.

"Joaquin, my head hurts..."

Annie emerged from the ward, clutching his arm weakly. "I can't see clearly... please help me. If I go blind, I won't be able to do anything. I don't want to live like that..."

Joaquin's fists tightened. His gaze flickered briefly toward the woman lying on the floor—then hardened his resolve.

This was her fault, he told himself. Yasmine had brought this upon herself. Everything that had happened was all her own doing.

Annie, on the other hand, was kind and pure. She had been slandered, falsely accused, nearly killed because of Yasmine's jealousy. Whatever she suffered now was only what she deserved.

"Call the surgeon out. Check on Annie first," Joaquin ordered.

Yasmine pressed her trembling hand to the floor, trying to push herself up.

"Yasmine, this is your retribution. Stay where you are and accept it." His voice was like frost—cold, cutting, merciless.

Retribution. What a fitting word.

Yasmine laughed bitterly, though no sound escaped her lips. She knew that no matter what she said, Joaquin wouldn't believe her.

As her consciousness faded, the last thing she heard was the doctor shouting for a stretcher.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in a hospital room.

Standing before her was Estella, Joaquin's mother.

"Yasmine," the older woman said flatly, placing a passport, a ticket, and a stack of cash on the bedside table.

"Here. Take them. I don't want to see you come back."

Yasmine met her gaze, voice hoarse but steady. "Don't worry. I'll never come back."

She longed to disappear—to leave this cursed place forever.

Estella seemed about to say more when the door suddenly opened. Joaquin stepped in, his expression unreadable.

She pressed her lips together, murmured a few words to him, and quietly left the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Joaquin asked sharply, his brow furrowed. He reached for the medical chart at her bedside, scanning it.

"It says you'll need a hundred days to recover. Don't think about anything else. Just stay put and behave."

He set the papers down, a faint softness creeping into his tone.

"You should be grateful Annie is fine. No fractures—just some superficial injuries. If anything had happened to her, not even your death could make up for it."

Yasmine let out a soft, humorless laugh.

Fractures? Superficial injuries?

That was all—and yet he said she'd owe her life for it?

Her fingers clenched tightly around the bedsheet, eyes flashing like shards of glass.

"I don't want to see you."

Joaquin froze, disbelief flashing across his face. "What did you just say?"

She met his gaze, her voice was icy and sharp. "Are you deaf? I said get out!"

With a snarl, he kicked over the chair beside him, fury radiating from every pore. "You're the one who made this mess! I'm helping you! Do you even understand that?"

"If something had happened to Annie, do you think you'd still be breathing right now?"

"You've committed a crime, Yasmine! Damn it—maybe I really was blind all these years!"

He slammed the door so hard the walls shook.

Yasmine didn't flinch. Her expression was calm—almost detached—as if looking at a stranger.

After a long silence, she reached into her bag and pulled out a hospital information slip—room assignments for her mother and for Janna.

She left her ward, climbing from the second to the third floor.

When she opened Janna's room door, her blood ran cold.

Annie stood by the child's bed in a hospital gown.

"Get away from her!"

Yasmine shoved her aside, sending the pills in Annie's palm scattering across the floor.

The monitors around Janna were silent—all the tubes and sensors had been removed. The little girl's face was pale, her small body trembling as she choked and convulsed.

"Haven't you done enough?! Janna already has severe pneumonia—do you want her dead?"

Annie's lips curled into a chilling smile.

"Of course I do. As long as she's alive, Joaquin will always think of you. Only when your daughter dies will he finally forget you and belong to me. And once she's gone, the rumors about my research will disappear too."

She leaned close, her voice low and venomous.

"No one will ever believe you. Why don't you just die quietly with your daughter? That would save Joaquin the trouble of dirtying his hands."

The truth hit like a bucket of ice over Yasmine's head.

So Joaquin knew—he had allowed this.

He'd let Annie touch their daughter.

Rage ignited in her chest. Yasmine grabbed Annie by the hair and slammed her head against the wall.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Ah! Yasmine—you dare hit me?!"

Yasmine's fury only grew as she stared at that smug, twisted face. She raised her hand again—but before she could strike, someone seized her wrist.

It was Joaquin.

His face was clouded with rage. "Yasmine, you lunatic!"

He shoved her to the floor. Yasmine coughed, clutching the bed frame, laughing bitterly.

"A lunatic? Do you even know what Annie just tried to do? She was killing Janna—for you!"

Joaquin frowned, turning toward Annie.

Annie shook her head, feigning innocence as she opened her hand to reveal the pills.

"I didn't do anything, Joaquin. These are for my experiment. I just needed Janna's final data sample. You promised you'd help me finish it."

She covered her forehead with one hand, tears falling like rain.

"If I've done something wrong, I'll apologize to Yasmine. Please, just let me finish this last test. She can hit me, scold me—I won't complain..."

Her trembling voice broke off in sobs.

Joaquin's anger exploded.

"Yasmine! When did you learn to twist the truth like this? Annie's research will save lives—she's doing something good for the world! Not everyone is as cruel as you!"

He pulled Annie into his arms and turned to Yasmine with disgust. "Kneel. Apologize to Annie."

Kneel?

Yasmine's nails dug so deep into her palms she nearly drew blood.

He believed everything Annie said. Every. Single. Word.

"I won't apologize. She's lying," she intoned coldly. "Or what—are you going to strangle me next, just to please her?"

For a moment, something flickered in Joaquin's eyes—hesitation, perhaps—but it vanished as quickly as it came.

Annie shook her head softly, pretending to be kind.

"Forget it, Joaquin. Forcing her won't help. If she hates me so much, I'll apply to study abroad. I'll stay out of your lives from now on."

She limped toward the door, and Joaquin instantly swept her into his arms.

"You're not going anywhere. She's the one who's wrong. Tell me how you want me to deal with her."

A faint smile tugged at Annie's lips, though it vanished just as quickly.

"Yasmine lived too comfortably. Maybe she needs to learn some compassion. Let her volunteer at the Third Hospital—taking care of sick, abandoned elders."

Joaquin nodded without hesitation.

"That's a good idea."

Yasmine clung to the bed, refusing to leave her daughter's side—until Joaquin struck her across the head.

The world went black.

When Yasmine woke up, she was already at the Third Hospital.

The first thing that hit her was the stench—thick, nauseating, and impossible to ignore.

It didn't take long for her to realize this wasn't a hospital for the elderly.

It was a psychiatric ward.

And she wasn't here to "take care of" anyone—she was trapped among a group of unstable, violent men.

The first time, one of them cornered her, she screamed until her voice broke.

A rough hand clamped over her mouth, a long rope wound around her neck, tightening until her vision blurred.

Someone laughed as she choked for air. Another struck her across the face—once, twice, again.

Pills she couldn't identify were shoved between her lips and down her throat until she gagged.

For half a month, she lived like that—in a haze of bruises and fear, her reality warped by trauma and drugs.

She stopped knowing what was real and what was a hallucination.

So when Joaquin finally appeared before her, she thought it was another cruel dream.

"How did you end up like this?" His voice carried disgust more than concern.

He took a step back, his expression twisting at the sight of her—hair matted and yellowed, clothes filthy and stiff with dried stains, her lips pale and cracked, her body reduced to skin and bone.

Yasmine half-opened her eyes, staring past him with empty indifference.

Joaquin frowned and stepped forward, but Annie quickly ran up to clutch his arm. "See? Isn't this pitiful look exactly what she wanted—to make you feel sorry for her?"

Joaquin paused. The disgust in his gaze deepened. "Annie's experiment results were successfully published today," he said coldly. "She insisted we bring you back for the celebration banquet."

Yasmine's stomach turned at the thought, but he didn't spare her a glance.

Two bodyguards grabbed her arms and shoved her into a separate car.

'It was finally over,' she thought.

At the hotel, she cleaned up as best she could and changed into a dress.

Just as she opened the door to leave, Annie stepped in front of her, blocking the way.

"After everything those lunatics did to you, you still have the nerve to live?"

Her voice was dripping with venom. "You know that medicine I fed your daughter? It causes suffocation. I heard you have asthma too. Those pills they forced down your throat—didn't they taste familiar? Too bad they didn't finish the job."

Yasmine didn't flinch. She clutched her phone tighter, eyes flicking to the message on her screen.

[Someone's waiting downstairs to take you to the airport.]

Her gaze slid toward the open hotel window, her tone suddenly turned calm—almost mocking.

"So... did you get what you wanted?"

Annie's expression darkened.

Yasmine leaned casually against the window frame, her voice low but edged with challenge.

"You schemed so much, but in the end, Joaquin and I still share the same marriage certificate. He only asked me to apologize to you—did he ever say he'd divorce me?"

She smiled faintly. "In his heart, you'll always be the outsider. I'm his wife."

Annie's face twisted with fury.

"He told me," Yasmine added, her tone light but cutting, "once he helps you finish that research report, he'll cut ties with you completely."

Annie snapped. She lunged forward, fingers digging cruelly into Yasmine's shoulders.

"You bitch!"

Yasmine met her glare with a smirk. "So what? As long as I'm alive, you'll never take my place."

“What, are you planning to kill me now?”

Annie’s laughter grew wild.

“Kill you? Yes. Once you’re dead, Joaquin's wife’s position will be empty, and no one will come between us again!"

"Besides, your half-dead daughter and dying mother will be joining you soon. I might as well send you all together. Joaquin trusts me completely—he’ll never suspect a thing!”

Then she violently shoved her.

Yasmine's body tipped backward, her feet slipping off the edge. The world spun.

The wind roared. Her hair whipped across her face. For a fleeting second, she smiled.

'So this is what freedom feels like,' she murmured.

As she fell, she didn't hit the pavement.

She landed on a soft air cushion, and the next second, a pair of strong hands helped her up.

Her rescuers—hired bodyguards—hurried her into a car waiting nearby.

When the plane lifted into the night sky, Yasmine looked out through the small window.

Below her, the city lights of San Diego flickered faintly in the darkness.

For the first time in years, her chest felt light.

She could finally breathe again. She could finally leave this place that had trapped her for so long.