Wasting no time, Nicole pressed the emergency numbers. She might not be able
to confront Jamie and the monster before her, but someone had to answer for
her abuse and disfigurement.
Unfazed, Jarrod inquired, “So, you've made your choice? Will you really
jeopardize the Lawrence family over such a minor matter?”
“What are you implying, Jarrod?” Nicole shot back.
Minor? The pain on her face was unbearable, and she’d heard the nurse mention
her disfigurement.
Was that insignificant to them?
“As I've stated, it was an accident,” Jarrod coldly retorted.
Shaking with indignation, Nicole spat out, “Jarrod, are you suggesting I should
just tolerate this?”
“Indeed.”
A look of despair clouded Nicole's eyes.
“Jarrod, my face is ruined.
A vase shattered against it. Had my arm not shielded me, my face would be
entirely mutilated. I might have died.”
The word “died” made Jarrod's heart miss a beat.
Quickly recovering, he responded icily, “Yet here you are, still breathing.”
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Nicole let out a hollow laugh, her face ashen and her hair disarrayed like a
deranged woman.
“Jarrod, you're well aware why I was assaulted. You're not just trash.
You're a monster. Want me dead? I'll give you what you desire,” she articulated
each word, choked with sorrow.
Abruptly, she threw back the blanket, leapt off the bed, and dashed toward the
window.
Before Jarrod could react, Nicole had already climbed up.
Staring down at the ground far below, she said bitterly, “Jarrod, this is the tenth
floor. Think I'll look worse if I take the plunge’
“Nicole, get back here!” Jarrod bellowed, his eyes widening in panic.
“But my beauty is already ruined. A hideous scar mars my face. No amount of
dressing up will change that,” Nicole mumbled, deep in reflection.
A wave of desolation swept through her. What was the point of living anymore?
Why had her life capsized so catastrophically upon Jarrod’s return?
He had shattered every illusion she had of him.