Jericho’s face changed drastically. He hurriedly went to lift her carefully.
“Please don’t blame Venice, Jericho. It was all my fault…” she whimpered.
That liar even covered a wound on her hand. It was no bigger than a fingernail! The next second, just like the manipulative woman that she was, she started sobbing.
When Jericho saw that so-called injury, his face darkened like a storm cloud.
The way he looked at me was cold.
“Venice,” he said coldly, “it seems I’ve been far too kind to you. You really need to be taught a lesson now.”
With that, he waved his hand, signaling his men.
In my breaking line of sight, the rope that bound my mom dropped rapidly… until a loud, sickening thud echoed through the air.
My vision blurred with tears as I broke free from the guards’ grasp and rushed to the window.
Down below, at the hospital entrance, a pool of red spread across the concrete.
And my mom—the woman who loved me most in this world—lay there, motionless, her fate unknown.
3
Venice’s POV
My strength gave out completely, and soon, I collapsed to the floor.
“Jericho!”
I screamed his name and rushed forward. With every fiber of my being, I slapped him across the face.
Never—not even in my worst nightmares—had I imagined he could go this far for Verona.
Swallowing my tears, I turned to leave. But before I could take a step, he grabbed me roughly by the arm.
His expression was devoid of warmth, his voice sharp and cold as steel.
“Hey. You haven’t signed the letter of understanding. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Fine,” I replied, my voice trembling. There was no strength left in me to even expect anything from him.
Five minutes later, a new copy of the letter was brought in.
Outside the hospital, my mom still lay on the concrete, and the medical staff trying to save her were being held back by Jericho’s bodyguards.
I didn’t even look at him anymore. My gaze was hollow as I picked up the pen and signed my name—stroke by stroke—on that cursed paper.
“Now,” I said quietly, “can I go?”
When I looked at him, my eyes were as cold as his.
His brows knitted together. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something.
But Verona tugged at his sleeve, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Jericho,” she whimpered, “my wound… It really hurts.”
Just those few words, and his entire demeanor changed. His face tightened with concern as he swept her up into his arms and hurried out of the room.