What Doesn't Kill My Marriage Makes the Surgeon Cut Deeper

2

Venice’s POV

When it came to Verona, Jericho’s expression finally shifted.

He gripped my wrist with brutal force, his gaze cold enough to freeze.

“You’re right. I’m your husband,” he said flatly. “So when my wife loses her mind because of pregnancy, I should, of course, send her to a hospital. And as for what a lunatic says—well, no one would believe it anyway. Venice, don’t make this harder than it has to be. Sign the letter. Otherwise… I can’t promise what might happen to your mom. After all, she’s still unconscious right now.”

Obviously, he was threatening me, using my mom’s life as a weapon.

“Jericho…” My voice shook uncontrollably. “That’s my mom!”

His lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes were as cold as steel. “Verona means just as much to me,” he said. “I told you—I’ll protect her no matter what.”

I stared at him, disbelief and bitterness choking me.

Seven years—that’s how long we’ve been married. Even if it began as a business arrangement, I truly believed I could warm that frozen heart of his.

When the Fowlers’ company was falling apart, I was the only one who cared enough to marry him and save what was left.

Even after the wedding, when he treated me no differently from anyone else, I still convinced myself that one day, I’d become someone special to him.

It never once crossed my mind that the space I longed to fill in his heart had long belonged to Verona.

When I stayed silent too long, Jericho lost his patience.

He clapped his hands once, and suddenly, the hospital room window burst open.

Following his gaze, I froze—my unconscious mom was hanging outside the window, suspended in midair! This was the seventh fucking floor!

“Jericho!” My voice rose to a shrill pitch. “Let my mom go!”

He tilted his head slightly, leaning closer.

“Venice,” he said softly, “your mom’s life is in your hands right now.”

A violent shiver ran through me. My knees went weak. I could barely stay standing.

Just then, Verona appeared at the doorway.

She walked in with a delicate smile, brazenly linking her arm through Jericho’s.

“It’s all my fault, Jericho,” she murmured. “Please don’t be so harsh with Venice. I’ll take responsibility. I can go to prison if that’s what she wants. Venice, I’m sorry, really.”

Her tone was pitiful, her eyes shimmering with tears. But as she stepped closer, her hand shot forward—pressing hard against my belly.

My eyes widened. Instinctively, I shoved her away.

“Ahhh!” Verona screamed, collapsing hard to the floor like she’d been hit with a strong force.

Jericho’s face changed drastically. He hurriedly went to lift her carefully.

“Please don’t blame Venice, Jericho. It was all my fault…” she whimpered.

That liar even covered a wound on her hand. It was no bigger than a fingernail! The next second, just like the manipulative woman that she was, she started sobbing.

When Jericho saw that so-called injury, his face darkened like a storm cloud.

The way he looked at me was cold.

“Venice,” he said coldly, “it seems I’ve been far too kind to you. You really need to be taught a lesson now.”

With that, he waved his hand, signaling his men.

In my breaking line of sight, the rope that bound my mom dropped rapidly… until a loud, sickening thud echoed through the air.

My vision blurred with tears as I broke free from the guards’ grasp and rushed to the window.

Down below, at the hospital entrance, a pool of red spread across the concrete.

And my mom—the woman who loved me most in this world—lay there, motionless, her fate unknown.