"There’s no more talking about taking the blame either."
"You’re threatening me?" John couldn’t believe it.
I laughed bitterly.
One dose of medicine for seven people.
Should I take the blame or secure my daughter’s future?
John had always forced me to make impossible choices. Wasn’t it fair to let him make one?
John hesitated for a few seconds, a struggle evident in his eyes, before he finally said,
"Okay, I agree."
I followed the police to the station.
John’s assistant came with me, handling all the arrangements and ensuring my safety.
It turned out that Jessica’s company, Southern Pharmaceuticals, was suspected of using defective syringes, causing several infections.
This news had exploded on the internet. John was using me to buy time.
I was placed in a detention room, expected to stay there for three days.
But I was released the next day due to a miscarriage.
A woman in the cell tripped me, causing the fall.
James tried to reach him numerous times at the hospital, but all calls went unanswered.
James looked at me, worn and hopeless, and said cautiously,
"Mr. Garcia must be busy, Madam, please don't worry."
I turned away and closed my eyes,