Gripping his sleeve with all my strength, I said, my voice trembling with desperation, “Jericho! Mom’s still in surgery while Verona only has a minor injury! You can’t do this to my mom!”
By the end, my voice broke completely.
But as I spoke, his expression only grew colder, his eyes hardening with indifference.
“Enough, Venice,” he snapped. “It seems you still haven’t learned your lesson. I just spoke to the attending doctor—your mom’s injuries aren’t serious. And besides, she’s unconscious now. She can’t even feel pain.”
His tone softened slightly as he turned toward the operating room, his eyes full of tenderness.
“Do you have any idea that the push you gave Verona injured her hand? She’s a doctor. Are you trying to ruin her career?”
A bitter laugh escaped me at his question.
“You mean a doctor who puts her patients into a coma on purpose? Losing her so-called career would be a blessing to everyone.”
At that, his face snapped back to me, his eyes burning with fury.
“Venice, I already told you—Verona didn’t do it on purpose. And her hand injury is on you. Until she recovers, the attending doctor won’t be returning.”
It was a death sentence, spoken without mercy.