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.
