Prime Hospital

Eleanor paced anxiously outside the operating room, her nerves frayed. Her father had been rushed into emergency surgery after a car accident. She had been in the middle of preparing for a crucial meeting at work when the call came, forcing her to hand everything over to her assistant before rushing to the hospital.

"Mom, don't worry. Dad's going to be okay," Eleanor reassured her mother, Eleanor's mum, squeezing her trembling hand.

Her mum opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, a sharp, venomous voice cut through the tense silence.

"Eleanor, are you fucking divorcing me or not?"

Eleanor barely had time to turn before someone yanked her hair violently, dragging her into a chaotic scuffle.

Her mum gasped and rushed forward to intervene.

"Mom, stay back—!" Eleanor's warning came too late. Jacob shoved her mum hard, sending her stumbling backward. Her legs caught on a chair in the hallway, and she crashed to the floor, her head striking the wall with a sickening thud.

"Useless old hag, stay out of this!" Jacob sneered, kicking Eleanor's mum several times in a fit of rage.

"Jacob, have you lost your mind?!" Eleanor's voice trembled with disbelief and fury.

"Good riddance if she dies," he spat, his eyes filled with such cold disdain that it sent a chill down her spine.

Blind with rage, Eleanor grabbed her own hair at the roots and yanked hard, tearing it free from Evelyn's grip. Ignoring the searing pain, she scrambled to her mum's side, checking for injuries.

Evelyn stood frozen, strands of Eleanor's hair tangled in her fingers, a clump still clinging to a patch of bloody scalp. Drops of blood dripped from her disheveled locks onto the floor. Eleanor glanced at the crimson stains, then lifted her gaze, eyes burning with hatred—yet she forced herself to stay still, resisting the urge to lunge at them.

"My father is in surgery right now. Whatever you want, we'll settle it after he's out," she said through gritted teeth, exhaustion creeping into her voice.

"Eleanor, I suggest you sign the papers now," Evelyn smirked, her tone laced with menace. "Otherwise, your father's surgery might not go as planned..."

"What did you do?!" Eleanor's eyes widened in horror as Jacob pulled a document from his briefcase and flung it at her face.

"Sign this if you want your father to live."

Eleanor's face stung as she opened the folder, only to let out a bitter laugh at the title glaring back at her—Divorce Agreement.

"You'd better sign it quickly. Your father doesn’t have much time," Evelyn reminded her with a smug smirk. Just then, the surgeon stormed out of the operating room, furious.

"Who ordered the surgery to stop? The patient is in critical condition—I’m going straight to the director!"

Eleanor could hardly believe it. To force her into divorce, Jacob had stooped so low as to gamble with her father’s life.

"Jacob, you’re ruthless. Fine, I’ll sign." Having seen his true colors, she held no illusions about their marriage anymore. With swift strokes, she signed the papers and flung them at him.

At that moment, a nurse rushed out in panic, calling after the surgeon, who was already heading for the director’s office.

"Doctor, it’s bad—the patient has no pulse! What do we do?"

The nurse’s words struck Eleanor like a thunderbolt. The doctor immediately turned and sprinted back inside. Ten minutes later, when he emerged again, his head hung low. Eleanor staggered backward, barely catching herself.

Even before the doctor spoke, she already knew. Meanwhile, her mum collapsed in a dead faint.

Setting her mum down gently, Eleanor turned to Jacob and Evelyn, her eyes bloodshot, tears streaming uncontrollably. Rage propelled her toward them.

"What’s wrong? Throwing a tantrum now? What can you possibly do to me?" Evelyn taunted, deliberately arching her back to emphasize her swollen belly.

Then, leaning in close, she whispered into Eleanor’s ear, voice dripping with malice:

"Now that you’re divorced, I’ll make sure to take good care of Isabella as her new stepmother."

The threat, paired with that venomous smile, snapped the last thread of Eleanor’s restraint. She raised her hand and slapped Evelyn twice across the face. Evelyn seized the moment, collapsing dramatically to the floor.

"Ah—Jacob! My stomach… it hurts!" she wailed, clutching her belly in feigned agony.

Eleanor’s eyes flashed with cold fury. Stomach pain? Does it even compare to the agony in my heart?

Jacob, enraged, strode toward Eleanor and swung his arm back to strike her.

Eleanor stared at him with icy disdain. At the critical moment, she was suddenly pulled into an embrace, the faint scent of sandalwood mingling with tobacco. Looking up, she saw a breathtakingly handsome profile.

"I despise men who hit women the most," Clinton said coldly, his piercing gaze fixed on Jacob. His voice carried a murderous chill that sent an involuntary shiver down the other man's spine.

"President... President Clinton..."

"Get lost." With that, Clinton released his grip.

"Y-yes, right away!" Jacob stammered, hastily scooping up Evelyn. After taking two steps, he suddenly turned back to glare at Eleanor. "Don't forget to meet me another day to finalize the paperwork."

The hallway fell silent again. Eleanor had no time to dwell on anything else—she rushed frantically toward the operating room.

On the operating table, Her father lay deathly pale and motionless. The horrifying sight of blood, all of it spilled from his body, stained everything in sight. She covered her mouth, choking back a sob of anguish, wishing desperately that this was all just a nightmare.

Just as she was about to lunge forward, she felt a firm grip around her waist—Clinton held her back.

"Let him rest in peace."

...

With Clinton's help, her father's body was sent to the funeral home. She couldn't understand why he had been here at all—he was supposed to be at the company, listening to her supervisor explain the bidding proposal.

But regardless, she was deeply grateful. After sending her mum home, she drove to the old residence to pick up Isabella. A wave of regret washed over her—she had stubbornly clung to this hopeless marriage, even knowing that love had long since faded.

Once Clinton had left, she got into her car and headed straight for the family home.

The drizzle gradually intensified into a steady rain. By the time she finally reached the residential complex, she parked her car hastily and dashed upstairs without hesitation.

The moment she stepped inside, a sharp slap struck her face, sending her reeling. She barely managed to steady herself against the wall, her vision swimming. Before she could even catch her breath, a flurry of punches and kicks rained down on her, accompanied by a torrent of vicious curses.

"You worthless bitch! You can't even bear a son, and now you dare try to harm Evelyn's baby? I'll beat you to death today! If anything happens to Evelyn or my grandson, I swear I'll end you!" Her ex husband's mum, who had spent years toiling in rural fields, possessed a strength hardened by labor. Her fingers dug into Eleanor's arm and waist like iron pincers, as if she wanted to tear a chunk of flesh from her.

"Please, listen to me—it's not what you think!" Eleanor tried to explain, but she wasn't having any of it. With another curse, she yanked Eleanor's hair and slammed her head against the wall.

A throbbing pain pulsed through Eleanor's skull. She knew her mother in-law, who had been obsessively longing for a grandson, was capable of killing her in this rage.

Struggling weakly, she desperately hoped her daughter, Isabella, wouldn't witness this horrifying scene. But strangely, the little girl was nowhere to be seen. Normally, Isabella would rush over the moment she returned, clinging to her legs and begging to be held. Yet today, there was no sign of her—even though it was past her usual naptime.

She continued her assault, her curses growing louder, her fury feeding the violence as she struck again and again.