Franco's hand never fell.
Instead—Juliette slapped herself.
A bright red mark bloomed quickly across her pale cheek as tears spilled like broken pearls.
"I'm sorry… it's all my fault. I caused my Sister and Brother-in-law to quarrel…"
She choked on her sobs, looking up at Franco with a face drenched in tears. "I never had a brother growing up. Brother-in-law has always treated me so well, just like family—that's why I called him by his name. If Sister doesn't like it, I'll never call him that again."
"If Sister doesn't like me living here, I'll move out right now. I just hope she won't be angry with me anymore."
With that, she lifted the quilt and tried to get out of bed.
Franco's anger dissolved in an instant. He gently tucked the blanket back over her.
"Don't say such foolish things. None of this is your fault. It's her making trouble for no reason. You can call me whatever you want, and you'll stay right here until you've recovered. Whoever doesn't like it... can get leave."
Just then, thunder rumbled outside.
A torrential downpour followed, rain hammering against the windows.
Franco's gaze hardened. "Apologize to Juliette."
Jerissa pressed her lips together, unmoving.
"Fine." His tone was ice. "Someone, take Madam outside. Let her stand in the rain until she clears her head."
The servants obeyed without hesitation.
"Watch her closely. She should not come back in for three hours."
Jerissa was shoved onto the rain-soaked stone courtyard. Water drenched her hair and clothes within moments, coldness seeping into her bones. Her knees scraped against the ground, sending sharp pain up her legs.
She lifted her head. Rain blurred her vision, but she could still see the master bedroom window—and the smug, undisguised triumph on Juliette's face.
It was summer, yet a bone-deep chill crept through her, making her body tremble uncontrollably.
No one knew how much time passed before darkness edged into her vision. At last, her body gave out and she collapsed unconscious.
The servants rushed to alert Franco. He ran out instinctively, scooping her limp, icy form into his arms and carrying her inside.
He laid her on the guest room bed, changed her into dry clothes, and wrung a hot towel to wipe her down himself.
A maid brought ginger tea to warm her, but her lips were pressed tightly shut—nothing could be coaxed past them.
Franco frowned deeply, studying her face under the soft lamplight. Her brows were sharp, her features carrying a quiet resilience. Even in fainting, she looked unyielding.
Nothing like his gentle Nicole.
A strange jolt struck his heart, spreading out in a faint, numbing ache.
He sat by the bed, cradling her against his chest. With one hand, he slowly fed her spoonfuls of ginger tea, slipping it between breaths.
...
The next morning, Jerissa opened her eyes to a splitting headache.
She forced herself out of bed and downstairs, only to find Franco bustling in the dining room. A hot breakfast waited on the table, steam curling upward.
In a trance, the scene of Franco changing her clothes and feeding her ginger soup last night flashed through her mind. But the warmth faded quickly, leaving only a cool indifference in her heart.
"You're awake? I made you breakfast. Cold medicine is next to it—eat first, then take it."
She didn't respond, and sat down quietly. At that moment, the secretary entered, bowing slightly.
"Mr. Alba, Mr. Cortez said a few cooperation documents need your signature again. It's urgent. Once you've signed, I'll deliver them right away."
Franco took the papers and began flipping through them.
At the table, Jerissa's grip tightened on her spoon, her heartbeat thundering in her chest.
Then, from upstairs, came a weak cough. It was Juliette.
At the sound, Franco stopped skimming the papers, swiftly signed his name, and picked up a breakfast tray to carry upstairs.
The secretary turned to leave, but Jerissa spoke suddenly, "Wait. Give them to me. I'll bring them to my father later."
The secretary blinked, then nodded.
Since Mr. Cortez was his boss's father-in-law, and the documents were urgent, he thought nothing of it. Without checking further, he handed them over.
Jerissa's hands trembled slightly as she pulled a paper free from the stack—a divorce agreement, already bearing Franco's signature.
Without hesitation, she added her own name. She immediately contacted a lawyer to process the divorce certificate, then bought two plane tickets abroad.
She packed only her essentials and documents, then headed for the door.
The moment she stepped outside, Franco's voice drifted from behind her.
"You've caught a cold. Don't go out. Stay home and recover. I've spoken with the hospital—the embryo transfer has been postponed for a few days."
Jerissa's heart sank, but she forced her tone to be steady. "The nursing home called. My mother's condition isn't good. I need to see her."
Franco didn't stop her.
"Come back early," he only said.
What he didn't know—was that she would never return.
When Jerissa arrived at the sanatorium, she found her mother sitting in a wheelchair, gazing quietly out the window.
Earlier, she had called ahead to remind the staff not to give her mother any sedatives that day.
"Mom."
The woman in the chair turned her head, her eyes startlingly clear. "Jerissa…"
Jerissa froze.
All those years ago, her mother had attempted suicide by swallowing sleeping pills after suffering a devastating blow. Though she had been saved, the ordeal left her with heart failure and memory loss. Ever since, her mind had remained trapped in the past, with no recollection that she even had a daughter.
Now, as her mother looked at her, tears slowly welled in her eyes. "All these years… you've suffered so much."
Jerissa rushed forward and clasped her mother's hand tightly. "From now on, neither of us will ever suffer again."
Leaving the nursing home, Jerissa managed to escort her mother onto a plane bound for Massachusetts.
As she gazed out at the rolling sea of clouds beyond the window, it felt as though all the pain of the past had finally been cast far, far behind her.
