Meanwhile, Lucille sighed in relief, grateful that the mysterious man from the elevator hadn't followed her. Collecting herself, she took a deep breath and swiftly changed into scrubs and a white coat in the changing room. Stepping out, she inadvertently collided with Nurse Cindy, who seemed quite flustered.

"What's going on? Are you in a rush?" Lucille furrowed her brow, observing Cindy's anxious expression.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Cindy exclaimed, clutching her clipboard tightly. "If you hadn't shown up, that patient would have caused a scene on the operating table, no doubt." She rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated by the situation.

Offering a reassuring pat on Cindy's shoulder, Lucille smiled and headed toward the patient's ward. She could hear the patient's distressed cries as soon as she entered. Cindy had been right—this patient was proving to be quite difficult for the nursing staff. Letting out a soft sigh, Lucille approached with a gentle demeanor. She greeted the patient and tenderly wiped away his tears.

A smile immediately brightened the elderly patient's face upon seeing Lucille, but he voiced his complaint, "I don't want an injection."

"Don't worry. The anesthesia will help you not to feel any pain. Please cooperate with us, okay?" Lucille coaxed him. Her voice filled with reassurance. After some time and a patient explanation, he finally relented, and the nurses quickly prepared to transport him to the operating room.

Ethan, the doctor overseeing the operation, approached Lucille with a warm smile, praising her skills. "You're truly exceptional at dealing with patients."

Shaking her head modestly, Lucille waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not that extraordinary. It's just that patients trust me."

"Let's begin the operation, shall we?" she said, her smile unwavering as she followed the team. With everyone prepared and adequately sanitized, they administered anesthesia to the patient and initiated the surgical procedure. Lucille took charge of the surgical tray, ensuring the instruments were for Ethan.

Although Lucille had already become a skilled surgeon, she recognized the importance of continuously learning from her experienced colleagues. While she had performed numerous minor surgeries, leading a complex brain surgery was still a challenge she aspired to attain. During her residency at the hospital, she frequently collaborated with Ethan, a renowned neurosurgeon and the head doctor. Their professional relationship had developed into a seamless understanding, making their collaboration effortless.

Observing Lucille's pale complexion, Ethan couldn't help but furrow his brows, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you feeling unwell? Your face appears pale. Since the patient is under anesthesia, you can take a break and rest."

Caught off guard, Lucille stared blankly for a moment before responding, "No, I'm fine. Let's proceed."

Meanwhile, inside the VIP ward, a beautiful patient sat on the hospital bed, her brows furrowed in frustration. With a furious glare, she ignored the food served to her by the man standing before her.

"Do you think I won't inform Henry that you're neglecting your duties, Kevin? You have no concern for me, do you?" Iris shouted, but Kevin remained silent.

"Why hasn't Henry arrived yet? Answer me!" She seethed, but her words were brushed aside as Kevin maintained his silence. Taking a deep breath, she growled, "Once I marry Henry, firing you will be the first thing I do!"

"Miss-" Kevin attempted to respond, but his words were stifled when someone interrupted him.

"Whom do you wish to terminate?" A cold voice resonated, causing both Kevin and Iris to freeze in their positions. They turned their heads to find Henry entering the ward.

Henry strode in, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. He exuded casual elegance, wearing a white shirt and black pants. Unlike his usual imposing presence, he seemed unthreatening, yet every movement carried an undercurrent of awe-inspiring majesty.

His eyes, devoid of emotional fluctuations, held a depth as impenetrable as the ocean's abyss. No one could decipher what thoughts resided within him.

"Who offended you, Miss Ward?" Henry raised an eyebrow.

"Henry!" Iris cooed, her initial anger dissolving into a bashful smile upon seeing him. "With your protection, no one dares to cross me."

As Iris spoke, she cast dagger-like glares at Kevin, but her expression softened when she faced Henry. "I'm still unfamiliar with the script I received, so I'm practicing my lines."

"I warned you that acting is challenging, but you didn't listen. Now, you've injured your legs because of it. If your grandparents find out, I'm sure they'll forbid you from pursuing acting again," Henry stated flatly, his words striking a chord of fear within Iris.

Anxiously, she reached for his hand and squeezed it. "No, please! Don't let them know. I love acting, and I don't know what I would do if I had to quit. It's the only passion I have..."

Iris thrived on attention, and acting was her avenue to showcase her beauty. Moreover, being supported by the influential Moore family provided her with a shield against any trouble in the entertainment industry. Although she entered through privileged means, she took pride in her craft. Within two years, she had risen from an inexperienced newcomer to an A-list celebrity, leveraging her connections. Still in the prime of her life, the thought of retiring prematurely felt like a waste of all her efforts.

As an actress, Iris could effortlessly conjure tears. She gazed at Henry with a tearful expression, blinking her sorrowful eyes.

Observing her display, Henry sighed, gently retracting his hand and offering reassurance. "Don't worry. I won't tell them. Come on, have something to eat."

A sense of loss began to creep over Iris as she realized Henry was setting a boundary. She bit her lip, suppressing her emotions. After all her efforts, she couldn't afford to let that line come between them. A coy smile flickered across her lips, and she murmured, "I know you always treat me the best!"

Yet, her attempts to sway him always fell flat. Henry didn't respond and simply gestured for her to eat. Once they finished their meal, he glanced at his watch and prepared to leave.

Just as he was about to depart, Iris grabbed his hand. "Can you stay with me tonight? It's dreadful to be alone here, and I'm afraid I won't be able to sleep."

"I still have something to attend to," Henry promptly refused without a second thought.

Upon hearing his words, tears welled up in Iris' eyes. She gazed at him with wide, teary eyes, her trembling lashes giving away her emotions.

Impatience crept into Henry's heart, yet he managed to maintain composure and nodded. He settled himself on the couch, eliciting a sense of happiness from Iris. She reclined back and closed her eyes, eventually succumbing to a deep sleep.

The moment Iris drifted off, Henry stood up and glanced at Kevin before striding out of the ward. Kevin stole a final look at Iris before following in his footsteps.

Meanwhile, a grueling four-hour surgery had finally concluded inside the operating room.

"The operation was a success," Ethan announced with a relieved smile that reverberated throughout the medical team. They carefully transferred the patient to a stretcher bed, and the nurses swiftly wheeled him out of the operating room en route to his designated ward.

Taking a deep breath, Lucille gingerly massaged her head. Dizziness overwhelmed her, and her temples throbbed with piercing pain. Someone beat her to it just as she was about to remove her surgical cap.

"What happened, Lucy? Did someone harm you?" Ethan's heart skipped a beat as he noticed the dried bloodstain on the back of her neck, large enough to indicate a significant wound.

His question brought back the events from earlier, and a mixture of complex emotions flickered in Lucille's eyes, which glistened momentarily with unshed tears. However, she swiftly regained her composure.

Smiling calmly, she replied placidly, "No one has hit me, Ethan. It was just an accidental injury."

As a colleague who had worked alongside Lucille for many years, Ethan couldn't help but sense that something was amiss. Yet, he wouldn't push her to share it if she didn't wish to.

Taking a deep breath, he expressed his helplessness, "I'll help you clean and disinfect it."

Lucille nodded, and together they made their way to the nurse station. Ethan carefully cleaned and bandaged her wound. Just as they were about to leave the station, their path was blocked by four men donning police uniforms.

"Excuse me, we're looking for Ms. Lucille Powell. Does she work here?" one of them inquired.

Lucille froze, confused and nervous, enveloping her upon hearing her name. A sense of foreboding settled in as if she could anticipate the intent behind their presence.

It was the first time Lucille had encountered the police seeking her out. Though internally gripped by fear, she fought to maintain composure. Clenching her fist, she took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself.

"I am Lucille Powell, Officer. May I ask why you are looking for me?" she managed to utter, her voice tinged with a tremor. She dug her nails deep into her flesh, desperate to remain composed despite the mounting dread.

The police officer explained, "We are here to investigate a report that suspects you may be connected to a pre-murder case. We kindly request your presence at the station to assist us in our investigation."

The news struck Lucille with disbelief, leaving her momentarily stunned. She could only stare at the officers in shock, the weight of the situation threatening to overwhelm her. Eventually, her legs gave way, but Ethan swiftly caught her before she hit the ground.

Wearing a stern expression, Ethan addressed the police, "Officer. I believe there must be some misunderstanding here. Lucy is a compassionate doctor. How could she possibly be involved in a murder case? Spreading such allegations would irreparably damage her reputation. I urge you to conduct a thorough investigation."

Before the police officer could respond, a shrill voice pierced through the air, interrupting their conversation. "They are not mistaken! She is a murderer!"

Lucille's gaze shifted forward, and her heart sank as she saw Claudia and Lucas stepping out of the elevator, striding purposefully toward them. Their faces were contorted with disdain.

Claudia stopped in front of Lucille, her eyes bloodshot with anger, and delivered a sudden slap without warning. Stunned and still feeling the effects of her injury, Lucille failed to evade the blow, staggering backward and clutching her cheek in confusion. Gasping, she held her reddened cheek, her mind racing with bewilderment. 'Why is she accusing me of something I didn't do?'

Reacting swiftly, Ethan caught Lucille as she almost fell, preventing further harm. Anger surged within him as he observed the palm print on her cheek and the trace of blood at the corner of her mouth. He glared at Claudia, swiftly positioning himself protectively in front of Lucille.

Consumed by fury and devoid of rationality, Claudia was determined to make Lucille suffer. She lunged toward her, intent on inflicting more harm. However, before her hand could reach Lucille's face, Ethan seized her wrist and forcefully pushed her back, using all his strength to keep her at bay.

Claudia stumbled and fell to the floor, her expression one of disbelief. Lucas rushed to her aid, glaring at Ethan, who remained unfazed by his presence.

Ethan's face, usually composed, darkened like charcoal, his jaw repeatedly clenching in anger. "Mrs. Reed, let me remind you that we are in a hospital. I can file a lawsuit against you for assaulting one of our esteemed doctors. While the Reed family may be one of the most affluent in this city, your current behavior does not befit your background. Do you really want to become tomorrow's headline?"

Claudia bit her lip, realizing the consequences of her actions. She suppressed her seething anger, mindful of her social standing. However, it didn't stop her from issuing a warning to Lucille.

"Merely being protected by someone won't shield you from legal consequences, Lucille. I will ensure that you rot in hell!" Claudia's eyes blazed with intense hatred as she glared at Lucille, wishing to tear her apart.

"Mom, you know me well! How could I possibly have killed Grandpa Ricky?" Lucille gasped, unable to comprehend the accusation from the woman she had considered her mother for the past three years. Although she and Lucas had recently divorced, it didn't negate their three years together. How could they brand her as a murderer without conducting a proper investigation?

Instead of softening her stance, Claudia's anger intensified, her ears buzzing at the mention of 'mom.'

"Don't call me mother! You are no longer my son's wife, and I refuse to acknowledge a murderer like you as my daughter-in-law! You are vile! Why did you kill him? He showered you with love, and you repaid him by poisoning him to death!" she bellowed.

Lucille felt a piercing pain in her heart as she heard hatred in Claudia's words. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized they didn't believe her innocence. Trembling, she turned to Lucas, her voice quivering as she asked, "Do you also believe that I killed Grandpa?"

Desperate to know if there was still a glimmer of trust in Lucas, Lucille searched his eyes, hoping to find some belief in her innocence. She valued his opinion because, despite the false pretense of their marriage, her feelings for him had always been genuine. The memories they shared couldn't simply vanish overnight. She hoped that he would at least have faith in her even if he didn't love her anymore.

But Lucas responded with a disdainful snigger, his gaze ice-cold as he looked at her tear-stained face. There was no trace of pity in his eyes; instead, deep-seated loathing and disgust emanated from him.

"I wouldn't have thought you capable of such a thing, but the evidence was undeniable," Lucas said, his voice filled with contempt.

Confused and desperate to defend herself, Lucille tried to speak up. "I don't-"

But Lucas cut her off, gripping a white bottle tightly as he sneered. "There's a video of you poisoning Grandpa. This bottle was found in your room, and the toxin identified matches what was found in Grandpa's body. Now, how can you expect me to believe in your innocence?"

His words echoed through the entire lobby, drawing the attention of onlookers. He pulled out his phone and played the surveillance video, further shattering Lucille's faith in herself.

Lucille refused to accept the truth of Lucas's accusations. She knew deep down that she had done nothing wrong. However, doubt began to creep in as the video played before her eyes. She watched herself surreptitiously open the bottle, take two white pills, and mix them into a glass of water, which she then gave Richard Reed. The serene expression on his face quickly turned into agony, and he collapsed, unconscious.

Shock paralyzed Lucille as her pupils dilated. She moved closer to the screen, desperately searching for any sign that someone else was impersonating her in the video, but there was nothing to suggest otherwise. The woman in the video was undeniably her.

'How is this possible?! I have no recollection of it! How could I have done such a thing?' Her mind screamed in denial, refusing to accept the horrifying truth. "No, it can't be... I didn't do it," she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. The evidence was irrefutable, but she couldn't reconcile it with the person she knew herself to be.

Anxiety and confusion overwhelmed her, causing her legs to weaken, and she collapsed to the floor. Everything felt like a nightmare she couldn't wake up from. Just moments ago, she had discovered Lucas's affair with her sister, and now she found herself accused of a murder she had no memory of committing. Tears streamed down her face as she yearned for it all to be a figment of her imagination. She buried her face in her hands and wept silently, hoping everything would return to normal when she looked up.

But no matter how desperately she wished for it, the reality before her eyes remained unchanged. The weight of it all crushed her spirit.

Impatience flickered across Lucas's face as he observed Lucille's broken figure on the floor. His voice turned icy as he declared, "You're wicked. You killed Grandpa, who only ever showered you with love. The only way to atone for your sin, Lucille, is with your own life."

His words jolted Lucille out of her grief-stricken trance. She stared at him in disbelief, unable to fathom that he could desire her death. A lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

"Lucille Powell, you are under arrest for the murder of Mr. Richard Reed," announced the police officer as he restrained her with handcuffs.

Lucille didn't resist, as if her spirit had been drained from her. Her eyes were empty, clouded with self-blame and confusion. "How could I have killed Grandpa?" she repeated in a dazed and broken voice.

Meanwhile, a man stood silently, observing the unfolding events at a distance. Henry's brow furrowed as he witnessed Lucille's vacant expression, her life force seemingly extinguished. A profound glimmer of determination flashed in his eyes.

Later that day, Kevin made his way toward Henry's office, his excitement palpable. Inside the elevator, he couldn't help but fidget, his anticipation growing with each passing floor. He had just received Lucille's background report and was eager to present it to Henry.

And why wouldn't he be? This was the first time in his career that his boss had shown an interest in a woman. As soon as Henry had given him the task, Kevin devoted himself to being the best wingman. He had delved into Lucille's background, tirelessly gathering every information he could find. He had compiled a comprehensive dossier on Lucille in hours, covering her life from childhood to adulthood.

However, as he read through the report, Kevin couldn't help but feel a tinge of dissatisfaction with what he had discovered. It turned out that Lucille had recently been involved in a murder case. Nevertheless, since she was the woman who had captured Henry's interest, he decided to keep his reservations to himself. As long as her presence could quash the rumors about Henry's involvement with other men, Kevin was willing to overlook any flaws she might have.

With a proud smile, Kevin held up the tablet, thrilled about his boss's blossoming romance, and stepped out of the elevator into Henry's office.

"President Moore, here's the information you requested," Kevin announced, presenting the iPad as a precious treasure. He looked at Henry expectantly, silently seeking approval. However, Henry simply accepted the device without saying a word.

As Henry scrolled through the information, his brows furrowed, and his expression quickly turned cold. In an instant, the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees, and Kevin couldn't help but wonder if there had been a mistake in the report.

Henry's lips turned downward, and the icy look in his eyes sent a shiver down Kevin's spine. His natural coldness and aloofness amplified whenever he wore that expression. Kevin often felt like he was playing a game of charades, trying to decipher Henry's thoughts. He knew that when something upset the boss, it could have severe consequences—people fainting or even having heart attacks. Right now, Kevin feared he might pass out from the tension in the room.

Meanwhile, at the police station, Lucille remained silent, unresponsive to the officers' questions and statements. Her gaze was vacant as if their words couldn't penetrate her mind. After a considerable amount of time trying to extract information from her in vain, the police decided to lock her in a cell.

It was well past midnight when Lucille was confined in a dark and damp room, sending chills down her spine. Huddled in a corner, she held onto her knees, trembling from the cold. Until that moment, she had refused to accept what had transpired.

Just yesterday, she had been the respected young lady of the Reed family, attending her beloved Grandpa Ricky's funeral. But now, everything had crumbled, and she had been swiftly convicted of murder. How could she come to terms with such a life-altering turn of events?

Desperation and dread coursed through Lucille's veins, suffocating her. She covered her ears as Lucas' accusatory words echoed in her mind, repeating like a relentless curse.

"I didn't do it," she murmured, shivering in denial. Yet, no matter how desperately she tried to convince herself otherwise, the damning video evidence captured her committing the act. It was crystal clear that she had killed Richard.

Lucas' words acted as a haunting mantra, growing louder with each passing moment, gradually convincing her that she had taken the life of the man who had cared for her.

Outside, rain poured relentlessly, accompanied by the rumble of distant thunder in the dark gray sky. A lightning bolt struck the ground, illuminating the gloomy room. Lucille almost screamed as she saw Richard's anguished expression before her.

He stared at her, his presence eerie, and spoke with an ethereal voice, "You're so heartless, Lucy. Why did you kill me?"

Wide-eyed and filled with desperation, she shook her head vigorously, trembling. "Grandpa, please believe me! I didn't kill you..."

At that moment, a chilling pair of hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing life out of her. She struggled, unwilling to face the apparition, but was compelled to meet its eyes.

"You took my life, so now you shall pay with your own!" it bellowed in her face.

Lucille was paralyzed at her breaking point as tears streamed down her cheeks like a waterfall. She could no longer bear the psychological torment. With a resolve born out of desperation, she decided and offered a surrendering smile.

"Alright, Grandpa. If sacrificing my life is the only way for you to forgive me, then I'll do it..." Lucille declared resolutely. Rising to her feet, she bit her lip and forcefully smashed her head against the wall. A searing pain overwhelmed her senses, and she instantly lost consciousness, collapsing to the floor with blood trickling from her head.

As Lucille eventually regained consciousness, she was no longer in a prison cell but in a dimly lit room. Her mind was still fuzzy from her two concussions within twenty-four hours. She couldn't immediately comprehend her surroundings.

'Could this be hell?' she pondered, but something felt off compared to what she had seen depicted on television. She glanced around, noting the absence of fire and wandering ghosts that she had imagined hell to be filled with. "Are you awake?" a hair-raising voice suddenly pierced through the room, causing Lucille to freeze. A chilling sensation crept from the depths of her heart as she listened to the cold and piercing tone. She had never encountered such a voice except in her imagination of the lord of hell. Trying to maintain composure, she forced herself to speak. "Your grace, the lord of hell?" she greeted, bowing slightly, instinctively attempting to show respect to avoid potential torture.

'Lord of hell?' Henry repeated silently in his head. His lips twitched at the absurdity of Lucille's assumption. 'Does she think this well-air-conditioned room is hell? Is she truly that naive? When did hell become a place of comfort?'

"Why did you commit suicide?" He asked in a frigid tone, questioning Lucille's actions.

Her body stiffened, and memories of her untimely demise flooded her mind, eliciting a bitter smile at the corner of her lips. The pain she had endured resurfaced, creating a suffocating sensation in her chest. Letting out a mocking laugh, she replied, assuming that the lord of hell was merely going through the motions before condemning her to punishment. "The husband I loved and cherished for three years betrayed me by having an affair with my sister. Isn't it ironic? I placed my trust in them, and they shattered it. Well, I've grown accustomed to Rica taking everything from me, so I shouldn't be surprised that Lucas caught her eye as well," Lucille's voice trembled with a mix of anger, pain, and suffering. Tears streamed down her face as she continued, "But their betrayal pales in comparison to the crime I've committed. I, I killed the only person who cared about me..."

Overwhelmed by emotions, Lucille could no longer contain her tears as she broke down completely. "The only way I can seek redemption is by offering my life."

In her distressed state, a glimmer of sanity returned to her mind, prompting her to ask a crucial question. "Are you certain that I was the one who murdered him?" Henry pursed his lips, squinting his eyes as he contemplated her words.

"What do you mean?" Lucille asked, bewildered by his response.

"Your grace, do you know the truth? Do you know who killed him?" She pleaded desperately, searching the darkness for any sign of his presence.

Henry moved away, and a sudden searing pain shot through her thigh, causing her to hiss in agony. "Does it hurt?" he questioned, his tone cold and detached.

"It hurts!" Lucille instinctively responded, but then a realization struck her like lightning. Her eyes widened, confirming her suspicion. "I didn't die?"

"What do you think?" he retorted sarcastically, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Realizing she was alive and not in hell, Lucille's guard was up. She retreated until her back was pressed against the headboard. "Then who are you? Why did you pretend to be the devil?"

Henry couldn't help but laugh. "Did I ever claim to be the devil or the lord of hell?"

Lucille fell silent, feeling a mixture of confusion and frustration. 'You certainly made it seem that way!' she silently retorted.

Gradually, the gravity of her situation sank in. 'If I'm still alive and this isn't hell, then who is this stranger?'

Hugging her knees tightly, she mustered her courage and cautiously inquired, "If we're not in hell, then who are you? And what do you plan to do with me?"