….Kayla's POV….

I watched my friend helplessly as she took a cab. My heart was pounding with worry, she looked fragile yet determined. I guessed she was heading home. I stopped a cab and instructed the driver to follow the one ahead of us.

I remained in the car, observing the crowd gathering outside the mansion. I saw my friend rush out of the cab, followed by the driver chasing after her.

Getting out of the car, I asked the driver what had happened, and he told me Jasmine hadn’t paid him. I asked for the amount and settled him.

I was perplexed and went back to sit in the car. Later, I saw someone wrapped in a sheet as if they were dead. Just as I was about to get out of the car, I saw Jasmine being held back by two policemen, trying to stop her from approaching the ambulance.

I opened my mouth, but no words expressed my shock. For a few minutes, it felt like time had stopped. My mouth hung open, and my heart began to beat faster.

I shook my head, thinking I might have seen it wrong. But the scene continued to unfold right in front of me.

Aunt Mira was a strong woman, someone who had never bowed to fate. No matter what happened, she would fight till the end. What exactly had occurred? She was the best mom on earth—sometimes I even wished she was my mother.

She was the backbone of the Blay family. How would her daughter be able to stand on her feet now?

I rested my head on the car seat and sighed heavily. A single tear fell down my cheek, and soon they began flowing like a river.

I didn’t even know the reason behind the tears. Was I crying for my friend, or was I mourning the woman I had admired all my life?

I tried to wipe them away, but they wouldn’t stop, grief washed over me.

All the while, the driver never said a word. I guessed he was as shocked as I was.

“Sigh… Who would have thought the Blay family would end this way? What a shame,” he said as he pulled a tissue and handed it to me.

His words, as if commanded by the god of tears, made them burst out like a broken dam. I couldn’t control them any longer.

I watched helplessly as my friend squatted on the floor and wailed loudly. I ran to her but couldn't get close to her. I pushed my way through the crowd but it was all in vain. I became frustrated, not knowing what to do; Jasmine needed me.

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…Jasmine's POV….

I shook my mom, hoping for a reaction, but she was silent. I became desperate, shaking her harder. The officers gripped my arms firmly, pulling me back as I struggled to reach my mom.

“Miss, we know how you feel, but please allow us to do our job,” one of them instructed as they wrapped my mom and carried her outside.

I tried to free myself, but it was futile. They were two men, and I was no match for them. I watched helplessly as they placed my mom in the ambulance and drove away.

I wanted to follow, but journalists surrounded me.

“Do you think your mother’s death is the family’s desperate attempt to divert attention from the scandal?” one of them blurted out.

I stood still, clenching my fists as my eyes turned red with anger. I wanted to speak, but I was so enraged that no words came out when I opened my mouth.

I was about to push through when another added, “Miss Jasmine,” another reporter interjected, “did she do this for pity, hoping we'd forget her shameless act?'”

Boom!

That was it. They had finally awakened the sleeping lion. My gaze sharpened as I glared at the reporter fiercely. My eyes squinted, turning cold like ice.

“I dare you to say that again!” I roared. The journalists were startled by my sudden outburst.

“Isn’t it the truth?” the journalist replied. She stared at me with a smirk at the corner of her lips. I could see the mocking grin clearly.

I took a deep breath and struggled to calm down. Right now, the Blay family was already in shambles, and every action would determine our future. I inhaled again, memorized her name tag, and noted her company name.

“I will… remember… you,” I said, emphasizing every word. It wasn’t just a statement—it was a declaration. A vow to avenge everyone involved in this tragedy.

I tried to walk away, but the journalists wouldn’t give me space. I hated that I was weak and powerless, unable to handle them.

“Aren’t you all ashamed to bully a girl who just lost her mother?”

A cold, deep voice cut through the noise. The weight of it felt as though an emperor in an ancient land had spoken. I turned toward the source of the voice and saw a man—a very handsome man, the most handsome I had ever seen. His gaze commands authority.

The journalists were stunned, and I took the opportunity to slip away. I saw my friend heaving as if she had been running to save me.

“Jasmine, are you alright? Those stupid journalists—are they animals to ask such insensitive questions? I’ll make sure their company goes bankrupt tomorrow morning,” she said, her face full of anger.

Without a word, I embraced her, needing the comfort of a hug more than ever. The tears I had held back while surrounded by journalists overwhelmed me.

“Let it all out, dear. Don’t try to be strong,” she said, gently patting my back.

Her words broke me. It was as if I had been waiting for someone to say them. Tears blurred my vision as I sobbed loudly, unable to hold back any longer.

While I was wailing, my phone rang.

I let go of her and picked up the call. It was my dad.

“Miss Jasmine, the chairman–—”

Thump!

The phone slipped from my hand. Another devastating blow, crushing the last bit of hope.

If my enemies had truly decided to torment me, maybe it would be better to end it all. I was utterly exhausted—mentally, physically, and spiritually.

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