My vision blurred red, rage and despair blinding me. I glared at him, and then I charged toward the operating room.
The next second, Jericho shoved me aside without hesitation.
My head slammed against the corner of the wall. In an instant, blood gushed down my face, and my so-called husband only looked at me coldly.
“Somebody take her to the hospital morgue to cool off. Once Verona’s hand has healed, you can release her.”
His tone was edged with brutal finality.
I used all my strength to struggle to my feet, still trying to run toward the operating room. But his men forced me to the floor.
Dragged down the hall toward the morgue, I couldn’t hold back anymore; tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.
“Jericho, please! Verona’s injury isn’t serious! Let my mom’s doctor finish her surgery first. I’m begging you! Mom fell from the seventh floor, Jericho! No matter the cushioning, her injuries must be severe! Please, save her, I’m begging you!”
My fingers clawed at anything I could reach, leaving streaks of blood behind.
But Jericho only looked at me, his eyes devoid of any sympathy.