"Do you really hate me that much?" Jenna screamed. "If my existence disgusts you so much, then I'll just die!"

She pointed at the test results, her voice rising into hysteria. "You showed my results to so many people, didn't you? My reputation is ruined because of you. Living is worse than dying now!"

Before I could react, she suddenly bolted toward the window as if ready to throw herself out.

Michael lunged forward and caught her just in time. Holding her trembling body close, he turned back to me. His eyes showed disappointment and accusation.

"Zoey, you would push my sister to suicide over a simple engagement party? You have really disappointed me."

His tone grew colder as he continued.

"Apologize to her. I want you to publicly admit that you resented Jenna for delaying the engagement, that you intentionally gave her cheap ointment to infect her with a serious illness, and that you attempted to slander her with false test results."

I stared at him through a blur of tears, hollow and stunned.

"Michael, if I really did that, my entire career would be destroyed," I choked. "I will never confess to something I didn't do."

But no matter how much I cried or explained, no matter how desperately I begged him to test the ointment, he refused to listen. He didn't even try.

With a quiet, irritated click of his tongue, he signaled the bodyguards.

They grabbed me, forced my head to the floor, and held me there.

And I had to kowtow one hundred times to Jenna.

Blood splattered across the tiles. Patients and visitors stopped in the hallway, lifting their phones to record every moment of my humiliation as if it were entertainment.

By the time I finished, every ounce of strength had drained from my body. I collapsed and fainted.

When I woke up again, my phone flashed a message from one of Michael's friends, telling me to come to the bar to 'explain things' to him.

Clinging to the last fragile thread of hope I still had, I went.

Only to hear words that dragged me straight into hell.

Afterward, my colleague saw the devastation written on my face. She didn't pry. Instead, she quietly handed me the post-exposure medication.

"Take it on time for a month," she murmured. "Then come back to confirm you weren't infected."

I thanked her softly and drifted home like a ghost.

Not long after, my phone lit up again.

This time, a new message appeared with a plane ticket attached.

[Zoey, don't be afraid. I'm coming to get you. No matter what it costs, I'll heal your hand.]

Curling into my blankets, I sobbed until my voice was gone. I didn't know how long I cried before a sharp, crushing pain shot through my broken wrist.

Terrified, I jolted awake and struggled blindly.

"Don't touch me!"

"Zoey, it's me!"

In the dim light, my vision slowly focused. Michael stood over me.

He smelled freshly showered, and the scent clinging to him was the same body wash Jenna used.

I froze.

Unbothered, he pulled me into a loose embrace. "I only left you with that drunk last night. Do you really have to make such a big deal out of it? I can't even touch you now?"

At his words, my entire body trembled. Tears spilled again.

He frowned, annoyed. "Do you have to be so dramatic? I'm a regular there. Everyone knows me. Everyone knows you're my fiancée. Who would dare lay a hand on you? And look, you're perfectly fine right now, aren't you?"

His casual justifications knocked the breath out of me. I could not form a single word.

With a hint of condescension, he asked, "Is your wrist still giving you trouble? I asked someone to get a special ointment. Use it, and your hand will heal completely. You'll still be able to be a top surgeon."

His tone softened slightly, as though he were humoring a child.

"Now you won't hold a grudge, right? You can come with me to apologize now?"

But all I felt was a cold, bitter ache spreading through my chest.

"Michael," I whispered, "let's break up."

I barely finished the sentence when he glanced at his phone, a faint smile lifting his lips as if he had not heard a word I said.

Then, his gaze snapped back to me. "What did you just say?"

Before I could answer, he waved a dismissive hand. "If you want to buy something, just buy it. No need to ask. Consider it compensation."

Already shifting gears, he stood up as he added, "Jenna said she wants to help you choose your wedding dress. Come with me. We'll try on dresses for her to see."

Half-threatening and half-coaxing, he squeezed my injured wrist.

"This time, you had better please Jenna properly and earn her forgiveness. Do you understand?" His voice dropped lower. "If you mess it up again, I really will hand you over to that buyer."

He just grabbed me and tossed me in the car, bridal shop bound, before I knew what was happening.

I said nothing. I only meant to retrieve the keepsake my mother left me, a piece of jewelry I had stored there so I could wear it on my wedding day.

Clinging to that thought for strength, I followed him silently.

When we arrived, Jenna stood there exactly as she had the first time we met, her head lowered shyly and her posture soft and frail. I looked closely for any sign of triumph or guilt after everything she had done to me, but her expression stayed perfectly composed.

Clinging to Michael's arm, she half-hid behind him and whispered, "Zoey, I'm so sorry. Are you glaring at me because you hate me?"

She looked up at him for protection.

"Zoey," Michael snapped sharply.

He pinched my injured wrist, lightly but with enough pressure to make my entire body flinch.

Pain shot through me.

I bit down and forced out, "No."

Only then did Jenna smile sweetly, her voice softening. "Zoey, let's go try on wedding dresses."

At her request, the clerk brought out the gown Michael had explicitly ordered for me. Jenna let out a delicate gasp and snuggled even closer against his arm.

"Michael, can I try on Zoey's wedding dress?" she asked, her voice trembling with rehearsed fragility. Her eyes turned red with fake sorrow. "I am already dirty. I may never have the chance to get married. This might be my only shot at wearing a wedding dress."

Michael's expression softened immediately, heavy with pity.

"Of course you can."

He turned to me then, a sharp warning in his eyes. I lowered my head and nodded silently.

"Great," Jenna chirped, her gaze drifting toward the necklace displayed next to the gown.

"Michael, this necklace is beautiful. Can you give it to me?" she asked sweetly.

Before he could respond, I stepped forward and picked up the necklace.

"I am sorry, this—"

"Of course," Michael cut in coldly. "Anything you want, I will give you."

He extended his hand toward me, his expression hard as stone.

"Hand it over."

A dull ache spread through my chest. I pressed my lips together and swallowed the pain.

"Michael, that necklace is my mother's keepsake," I whispered.

"So what?" He yanked my hand aside and ripped the necklace from my grasp. "Do not forget, you owe Jenna. Consider this necklace compensation."

My heart lurched. I reached for it again, desperate.

"Michael, punish me however you want. She can have anything else, but not this necklace."

The moment I raised my hand, Jenna screamed and fell backward.

"Zoey, why did you push me?"

"Jenna!" Michael shouted.

He shoved me aside to catch her.

My foot slipped. The world tilted violently around me.

I tumbled down the stairs.

Pain detonated through my body. My bones screamed as if everything had cracked apart. My vision flickered, fading in and out. A metallic taste filled my mouth, and I choked up a mouthful of dark blood.

Then everything went black.

When I woke again, I was lying in a hospital bed.

My colleague stood beside me, her eyes full of sorrow.

"Zoey, your pelvis was shattered," she said quietly. "We managed to save your legs from amputation, but paralysis was unavoidable."

I stared at the still lower half of my body as grief overwhelmed me with crushing force.

I broke down and sobbed.

If I were paralyzed, even if my hand healed, I could never step onto an operating table again.

My colleague wiped her eyes, her voice trembling with anger.

"Michael is a bastard. You are hurt like this, and he still doesn't care. But that woman sprained her ankle, and he called every available doctor to treat her."

She squeezed my shoulder gently. "Zoey, you do not deserve any of this."

If I had heard these words in the past, my heart would have ached uncontrollably.

Now, however, I was already broken, so thoroughly that nothing could stir even the slightest ripple inside me.

Wiping away my tears, I said quietly, "Help me process the discharge papers."

My flight leaves in three hours.

If I left now, I would make it in time.

More importantly, the disastrous bond between Michael and me needed to end once and for all.

With trembling fingers, I took out my phone and sent him all the evidence proving Jenna had framed me, including the lab report on the ointment.

After sending everything, I changed into my clothes, settled into the wheelchair, and prepared to leave.

Just as I reached for the wheel, the ward door burst open.

Michael stormed in with a rigid, unreadable expression and seized the handles of my wheelchair.

My colleague, who had been restraining herself for days, finally snapped. "Mr. Floyd, you finally remembered Zoey. Do you have any idea what she—"

"I know," he cut in sharply.

Then, with a cold, curling smile, he slapped me across the face.

Lacking strength in my lower body to hold myself steady, I absorbed the full force of the blow.

I fell from the wheelchair as horrified gasps filled the room, my head hitting the floor and blood spreading beneath me.

Michael sneered down at me. "I saw the things you sent me."

Shakily, I pushed myself upright and stared at him. "Why?"

Tears blurred everything. The heaviness in my chest made it difficult to breathe.

"I almost believed you," he said slowly. "For a moment, I really thought Jenna had framed you. But then…"

He pulled a box of syphilis PEP medication from his pocket and threw it at my face.

"Jenna found this in your bag. So tell me, why would you have this?"

My eyes widened in horror.

"Mr. Floyd, you have misunderstood. That's—" My colleague's younger sister managed only a few words before Michael kicked her so violently that she collapsed, unable to speak.

When I saw him raise his foot again, I cried out and lunged forward, trying to shield her.

Michael showed no mercy.

He stomped on me several times, each strike landing directly on my fractured pelvis. Cold sweat drenched my body as darkness gathered at the edges of my vision.

He grabbed my chin and forced my face upward, his expression twisted with disgust and disappointment.

"Zoey, you hid it well. Pretending to be pure and noble, acting like you were above everyone. I chased you for a whole year, and you would not even let me touch you. I actually thought you were a decent woman."

His voice sharpened.

"But it turns out you are filthier than anyone, worse than women who sell themselves. I kept wondering how a bit of ointment could infect Jenna. Now I know. You smeared your own filthy disease onto her and infected her yourself. And then you tried to push her down the stairs and break her leg."

"I didn't," I forced the words through clenched teeth.

Looking up at him, I pleaded, "That medicine is—"

"Enough," he roared, cutting me off. "You still want to lie to me? I won't believe another word!"

He flung me aside like trash.

"I used to think you gave Jenna substandard medicine, faked her test results, and spread rumors just to get back at me for missing the engagement. I even felt soft-hearted and thought I would scare you a little to make Jenna feel better."

His voice dropped, chilling and final.

"But I never expected you to do something this vicious, something not even an animal would do. This time, I will not be forgiving."

Michael cast one last look at me before turning away.

"We are breaking off the engagement. I will never marry a poisonous woman like you."

I closed my eyes and whispered, "All right."

His fists tightened, and his voice sank into a cold growl.

"You think that is all? You think I would let you go that easily? Jenna said you need to experience her pain. The man who messaged about taking you is on his way. I will hand you over later."