"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."
