[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.
