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

4

Venice’s POV

I stumbled forward, barely keeping my balance.

“Jericho! Bring back my mom’s attending doctor!”

My voice came out raw and strained from my parched throat.

When Jericho saw the cuts and bruises on my face, his brows knitted tightly together.

“How did you manage to get yourself into this state?”

He reached out, trying to touch the wound on my cheek, but I jerked back before his fingers could make contact.

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.

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.

“When Verona’s hand heals, she’ll operate on your mom again. Your mom will recover, and Verona’s reputation in the medical field will be restored. It’s a win-win.”

That made my pupils shrink, and I trembled all over.

“No, Jericho, you can’t do this! I’ll hate you for it! If anything happens to my mom, I will never forgive you!”

In the end, my cries and struggles were still useless.

He just stood there, watching coldly as I was dragged away to the morgue.

The heavy door slammed shut behind me, and the air at ten degrees below zero wrapped around my body like a shroud.

I couldn’t hold on any longer. It didn’t take long before my vision went black, and I collapsed to the floor.