“Jarrod, you got what you wanted. You’ve killed our child yourself!”
Nicole’s voice, rough and strained as though scorched by flames, was barely audible. Her words were difficult to discern.
Jarrod, reading her lips, felt as if struck by lightning.
Was the child he had sought to eliminate actually his own?
Nicole’s blurred vision couldn’t discern his expression. All she saw were shadowy figures. Her hand weakly slipped down.
“Jarrod,” she whispered.
“My dying wish is for you to be cursed with illness and loneliness throughout your life…”
Her voice, filled with hatred, despair, and revulsion, was hoarse and feeble.
Jarrod watched her lips closely, deciphering each word that others couldn’t.
He felt as if her bloodied hand was choking him, his hand stiffening in response.
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After a moment, Jarrod spoke through clenched teeth, his voice strained.
“Nicole, stop talking about death! You’re not scaring anyone.”
The doctor interjected urgently, “Sir, the patient is bleeding. Your actions are endangering her life!”
To the medical team, Jarrod seemed deranged.
They couldn’t understand why Jarrod was attempting to communicate with a patient who could only make hissing sounds due to damaged vocal cords.
Finally, Jarrod let go. He remained motionless, then retrieved his phone from the floor and followed the medical team.
Outside the emergency room, Jarrod’s hands shook uncontrollably.
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He had thought confining her in the detention center would only Limit her freedom, granting her a lesson for defying and harming the untouchable.
How could things have turned out like this…
What did Nicole mean by accusing him of killing his own child?
A sharp, needle-like pain struck his temple. Leaning against the wall, he dialed Alec.
“Find out everything that happened to Nicole in the detention center.
Miss a single detail, and you’ll be tortured to death!”
The medical team stretched on for eight grueling hours.