Five years into her secret marriage with Carl Sinclair, Jasmine Mendoza still hadn't been touched by him.

On their wedding anniversary, she made a bold move to climb into his bed in lingerie.

But before she could even touch his lean body, he shoved her out of the bedroom without a trace of gentleness.

"Leave," he said coldly. "I told you—I agreed to the marriage, but I'll never sleep with you."

In the corridor, his handsome face was filled with clear disgust under the faint light.

Jasmine felt ashamed. She bent over slightly, clutching her shirt and biting her lip. "But Matthew told me... "

Her pitiful look didn't make him feel sorry. It just made him more annoyed.

"Don't try to use Grandpa to guilt-trip me," he snapped. "Did he also tell you to throw yourself at me like this?"

Jasmine was about to deny it, but Carl's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and the coldness in his expression vanished. "Whitney, what's going on?"

His voice softened in a way Jasmine had never heard before like he was afraid of scaring the woman on the other end.

But Jasmine knew that only one person could make Carl speak like that—Whitney Lawrence, his college junior.

She was his beloved crush, someone he treasured deep in his heart.

It was clear Carl knew how to be gentle. He just never chose to be that way with Jasmine, not even a little.

A soft, frightened voice came through the phone. "Carl, the lights in the ward went out. I'm scared. Can you come to stay with me?"

Carl didn't hesitate and replied gently, "Don't worry, Whitney. I'll be right there."

Once he hung up, the warmth in his eyes faded. He turned to Jasmine coldly. "I'm staying with Whitney tonight. Deal with Grandpa by yourself. If you dare to complain to him, we're getting a divorce."

Jasmine forced a smile. She wouldn't say anything.

Because from now on, there was no longer anything between them.

Before their wedding, Matthew Sinclair had her sign an agreement. If she failed to conceive Carl's child within five years, the marriage would be void. As compensation, he'd send her abroad.

No one knew that marrying Carl had always been her dream.

Jasmine first heard Carl's name from her father. He mentioned that Carl was a gifted prodigy, got into college at 16, and became the youngest surgeon at the city hospital by 25. Her father always spoke highly of him.

Since Carl worked with her father, Jasmine respectfully called him "Mister."

She had always been curious about this mysterious man.

One day, she visited the hospital and saw Carl for the first time. He stepped out of his office in a white coat, giving clear instructions for the operation to the team. His calm and confident presence stood out among the crowd.

From then on, she fell for him. And her feelings only grew stronger.

She began pursuing him boldly, begging Matthew to agree to their marriage. But he said no. "Jasmine, Carl isn't the kind to bend easily. Besides, he already likes someone else. If you marry him, you'll only get hurt."

Even though Jasmine loved Carl deeply, she had no choice but to bury those feelings.

But then, Carl came to her.

"Jasmine, let's get married," he said.

There was no wedding, no celebration—just a marriage certificate.

No one knew that on the night she became his wife, she was overjoyed and couldn't fall asleep at all.

Later, she learned that Whitney had married her overseas boyfriend. That was why Carl chose her without much thought. It didn't matter to him who he ended up with.

At first, she didn't mind. She foolishly believed that with enough love and effort, she'd eventually warm his heart.

But after marrying Carl, she realized she was completely wrong.

They had been married for five years, yet he never allowed their relationship to be made public, ignored all her attempts to get close, and never replied to her messages.

She even tried to seduce him, using every method she could think of. His eyes would redden with desire, but in the end, he always pushed her away, clinging to his self-control.

That was when it hit her.

Even though Whitney had married someone else, Carl still stayed loyal to her.

Just now, she had failed for the 999th time. It finally sank in that Carl would never love her.

Now that Whitney had divorced and returned to America, Jasmine knew what she had to do.

She had to step aside.

After making up her mind, she called Matthew and said, "Matthew, can you arrange for me to go overseas? I miss my parents."

Her parents had moved abroad and asked her to join them, but she chose to stay behind because of Carl.

Matthew sighed helplessly. "Jasmine, I'm sorry you've gone through this. I'll make the arrangements. Everything should be ready by next Wednesday. Use this time to get your things in order."

She thanked him and ended the call.

Looking at the calendar, she saw she still had seven days.

In seven days, she would completely leave Carl.

Even though Jasmine had a deal with Matthew, she still had a marriage certificate with Carl, so his signature was still needed for the divorce agreement.

She knew where to find him.

She got in a taxi and headed to the hospital. Just as she stepped near Whitney's ward, she heard loud laughter coming from inside.

"Carl, come on, tell us how she tried to hook up with you. Let us have a good laugh."

"She's still not giving up? Makes sense, though. Carl is handsome, but everyone knows his heart belongs to Whitney. Now that Whitney's back and single again, are you two getting married soon? When's the wedding?"

Whitney's pale face turned red. She gave Carl a shy glance and lowered her head sadly. "Don't joke around. I've been married before. I'm not good enough for Carl anymore. Besides, my depression could come back anytime. I can't drag him down."

Through the crack in the door, Jasmine caught the emotion in Carl's eyes. He quickly stepped forward, took Whitney's hand, and said seriously, "You're not a burden to me. I'm a doctor. I know how to take care of you."

Cheers erupted in the ward. "Together! Together!"

At that moment, the sound of Jasmine opening the door instantly shattered the cheer inside the ward.

All eyes turned toward her, full of mockery.

Carl pulled his hand away calmly and asked coldly, "Why are you here?"

His distant tone stung. Jasmine clenched her palm tightly, ignoring the stares. "I came to ask for your signature."

Carl didn't respond, so she walked in.

As she moved forward, someone stuck out a foot and tripped her on purpose. She lost her balance and hit the edge of the bed hard, making a loud thud that startled Whitney, who was drinking hot water.

"Ah—"

The glass spilled all over Whitney's arm, leaving red blisters. Seeing that, Carl shoved Jasmine aside and checked Whitney's injury in a panic.

Jasmine fell to the ground. Her arms were burning, and her forehead throbbed from the impact.

When she touched her forehead, her fingers came away bloody.

But no one even glanced at her.

Seeing how miserable Jasmine looked, Whitney pretended to be generous and said, "Carl, don't worry about me. I'm alright. Don't blame Ms. Mendoza. I'm sure she didn't mean to do it."

Carl looked annoyed and turned to Jasmine. "Why are you always so quick to act? Don't you know Whitney's condition can't handle any stimulation?"

Their friends nearby chimed in.

"I bet she did it on purpose, just to look pitiful and get attention."

"She's so cruel. Whitney just tried to commit suicide because of depression. What if she gets worse from this scare?"

Even though Jasmine was the one hurt the most, people acted like she brought it on herself.

Her husband, Carl, didn't say a single word in her defense.

Holding her aching forehead, Jasmine refused to let things stay misunderstood. She looked at Carl and tried to explain. "Someone tripped me on purpose. That's why I fell."

Whitney bit her lip and spoke in a fragile voice, sounding wronged, "Ms. Mendoza, I know you dislike me, but you can't blame my friends like that. They came all this way just to see me. Why would they try to hurt you?"

"For—"

Jasmine had just started to speak when Carl cut her off sharply. "That's enough. Stop being so unreasonable."

She stared at him in a daze.

He looked at her with distrust. It felt like a blade slicing into her heart, over and over again.

She clenched her hands so hard that her nails broke the skin of her palms. Swallowing the pain, she forced herself to say, "Alright. I won't act unreasonable anymore."

She would no longer have any expectations of him.

Jasmine went to the emergency room to get her injuries treated.

The doctor who was bandaging her wound let out a sharp breath when he saw how bad the cut was. "How did you end up with such a serious wound? It's deep and needs to be cleaned. There's no way to numb it, so you'll have to tough it out."

As the alcohol touched the wound, a sharp pain surged through Jasmine's body. Her face twisted in agony. Just then, an arm appeared in front of her, and a calm voice came from above. "Bite me if it hurts."

Without thinking, she clamped down hard, and blood seeped from her lips.

The doctor gasped in shock. "Dr. Sinclair, what are you doing?"

Carl simply waved him off. "She doesn't handle pain well. Let her bite down to distract herself."

The moment Jasmine recognized his voice, her body froze, and she quickly let go.

Seeing the bloody marks left behind, her mind was flooded with memories.

In truth, Carl hadn't always been distant.

She could still recall the year she first moved into the Sinclair's manor. There was an empty spot in the backyard where she wanted to grow jasmine flowers. But no matter what she did, the plants never survived. Eventually, she turned to Carl.

"Mister, I can't seem to grow jasmine. Can you help me?"

He had turned her down sternly, and she went to bed feeling discouraged. But the next morning, she saw that jasmine seeds were scattered all over the garden. When spring came, the flowers were in full bloom.

Later, Carl even found a way to keep them green all year round.

"I'll take you home once I've seen my last patient," Carl said, taking the agreement from Jasmine's hands. She didn't react until she felt her hands were empty.

The doctor had finished cleaning and stitching her wound. There were eight stitches in total.

Staring at the signed document, Jasmine mumbled, "Aren't you going to check? What if it's a property transfer agreement?"

"You wouldn't do that," Carl replied with certainty.

Then why didn't he trust her earlier?

Jasmine didn't dare ask. She didn't want to embarrass herself.

After getting the signed divorce agreement, she didn't wait for Carl. She took a taxi to the law office alone and handed the documents to the lawyer.

"Ms. Mendoza, we'll take care of everything. Even if you leave the country, the divorce won't be affected."

Hearing that, Jasmine paid the fee without hesitation.

Later, when she returned home, Carl followed soon after, clearly upset. "I told you to wait at the hospital. Why'd you come back on your own?"

Jasmine didn't feel like talking. "I was tired. So I left first."

He didn't press her. Instead, he handed her a package. "I went out of my way to get your favorite pastry."

Truthfully, Jasmine never liked pastries or sweets—Carl did. So his favorites became hers.

But she said nothing. She took a bite and quickly lost her appetite.

As she turned to head upstairs, her vision blurred. The surrounding environment spun around her. Looking at Carl in horror, she collapsed.

When Jasmine opened her eyes, she found herself lying in a room.

She tried to sit up but accidentally pulled at the injury on her arm, making her gasp from the sharp pain. Carl, who had just poured a bottle of warm water, saw it and gently reminded her, "Don't move. Your arm's still healing."

Her eyes flickered. The pain told her something was off. Her arm was tightly bandaged, and she didn't know why. The fingers gripping the blanket gradually turned pale.

"What did you do to me, Carl?"

He handed her the water and calmly said, "I took the skin from your wrist and transplanted it to Whitney. She's in a fragile state. Seeing a scar could make her worse."

He spoke like it was no big deal.

He knew how much Jasmine cared about her appearance—every small cut was something she treated carefully. But this time, he had taken a whole patch of her skin without mercy.

Her heart felt shattered. She trembled, and tears rolled down her cheeks. "Carl, why? You didn't even ask me."

Carl looked at her without emotion. "You were the reason Whitney got hurt. You needed to be punished."

So, he still didn't trust her. He didn't even mind hurting her for Whitney's sake.

Jasmine turned pale, her chest tightened, and her tears soaked the blanket. Seeing how hurt she looked, Carl softened his tone. "This was just a small lesson—to teach you that actions have consequences. Once I find matching skin, I'll have it fixed."

She didn't understand what she had done wrong. Why was she being punished?

Maybe her only mistake was loving Carl.

After that day, she never spoke to him again. He seemed to notice she was upset and tried to treat her better.

But Jasmine no longer cared.

At lunch, Carl placed a piece of shrimp on her plate. "High-protein foods help with healing."

Jasmine picked out the shrimp and asked the maid to change her dinnerware.

"I'm allergic to shrimp."

Carl was caught off guard. Of course, he was surprised. She once ate the shrimp he gave her without hesitation, even knowing she was allergic.

She ended up in the hospital, lips swollen and painful, yet she still laughed on the hospital bed like a fool.

Thinking about it now, she realized just how foolish she'd been.

The atmosphere at the table suddenly turned cold. Not knowing what to say, Carl got straight to the point. "Whitney is coming to stay here for a while. I don't trust the hospital staff, so when I'm not home, I'd like you to take care of her."

Jasmine froze for a moment. Then, she nodded. "Alright."

Carl felt a bit uneasy watching how cooperative Jasmine was.

He had already planned how to pressure her if she refused. But now, she agreed so calmly without resistance or tears. Something felt off.

Just as he was about to speak, the housekeeper's voice suddenly came from outside. A few maids entered, each carrying luggage. The one walking at the end was Whitney.

She noticed Jasmine eating in the living room and spoke in a surprised tone, "Ms. Mendoza, you're here too?"

Jasmine's eyes were locked on Whitney's arm.

The wound itself was only the size of a thumb, yet Carl had removed the skin from her whole arm.

After realizing the truth, Jasmine held onto the edge of the table so tightly that her nails snapped before she could steady herself. Carl spoke softly, "Jasmine doesn't know anyone in Los Angeles, so she'll be staying here for a few days."

Jasmine smiled sarcastically and added, "I'll be gone by next Wednesday."

She did leave Los Angeles that day.

But Carl didn't seem to care much. He went ahead and helped Whitney carry her things. Once they got upstairs, Whitney stood by Jasmine's bedroom door, clinging to his arm and speaking sweetly.

"Carl, the sunlight in this room is perfect. The doctor said I need more sunlight to get better."

Carl glanced over at Jasmine. Before he could say anything, she spoke up first, "I'll move out."

Whatever Whitney wanted, she could have it.

Jasmine didn't even want Carl anymore.

Seeing how easily Jasmine gave in, Whitney lost interest. As Carl helped her unpack, she swung her arm and boasted, "Jasmine, you're so shameless. Carl doesn't love you, but you still stick around. If I were you, I'd have hit a wall and killed myself. See? When I said my skin was ugly, Carl agreed to have your skin transplanted onto me."

Jasmine stayed calm and ignored Whitney's provocation.

No matter what happened, Carl would always take Whitney's side.

"Congrats. You've won," Jasmine said sincerely.

But Whitney took those words the wrong way, thinking Jasmine was mocking her.

She looked like she was about to lose her temper. But then, an idea crossed her mind, and she smiled instead. "Jasmine, if I got hurt and Carl saw it, who do you think he'd believe—me or you?"

Jasmine's expression shifted. Right after saying that, Whitney suddenly leaned back. Before Jasmine could react or reach out, Whitney was already falling down the stairs.

Whitney landed at the bottom. Wincing in pain, she stared at Jasmine with a hurt expression. "Ms. Mendoza, why did you push me? What did I ever do to make you hate me this much?"

Carl happened to see this scene.

He dropped the luggage and rushed over to Whitney, pulling her into a nervous hug. "Whitney, are you alright?"

Jasmine had always believed Carl was someone who stayed calm no matter what.

There was a time they got stuck in a snowy mountain cave. They had no signal, and barely enough food to last a day. Even when she broke down crying, he stayed composed the whole time.

But now, Jasmine realized that Carl would also feel fear when someone he cared about got hurt. But the one he cared about had never been her.

Whitney leaned weakly against his shoulder, tears running down her face. "Carl, it hurts so much. I shouldn't have come to your place. I should've stayed at the hospital."

She had always had an innocent face. When she cried, Carl felt a pang in his heart. He suddenly remembered something and turned to glare at Jasmine with anger.

"Jasmine." He gently placed Whitney down, then stormed over and slapped Jasmine.

The sharp smack echoed in the room. Jasmine was stunned. Her ears rang, her mouth tasted of blood, and pain flared across her cheek. She stood frozen, shocked by what had just happened.

Carl didn't ask anything. He didn't wait for an explanation.

He instantly believed it was the truth based on Whitney's words.

He glared at her, his chest rising and falling. "I've never hit a woman before. You're the first. If anything happens to Whitney, you're going to regret it."

Then, without another word, he picked Whitney up and walked out.

As they left the living room, Whitney turned her head and shot Jasmine a smug smile.

Once the house fell silent, Jasmine went back to her room like a zombie. When she saw her swollen face in the mirror, her emotions finally burst. She grabbed her phone and called her parents overseas.

"Dad, Mom, I miss you."

The sound of her crying made her parents instantly worried. "Who upset you, babe? Tell us, we'll ask Carl to help you out."

Carl was the one who had hurt her. She didn't dare to tell them.

Holding back more sobs, she whispered, "No one bullied me. I just miss you both. I've booked a flight for next Wednesday. I'm planning to live abroad from now on."

Her parents were surprised. They knew how deeply Jasmine had once loved Carl. So, they asked worriedly, "What about Carl? Did something happen between you two?"

At the mention of his name, her tears started falling all over again. "I don't love him anymore."

They could hear the heartbreak in her voice and understood she had been mistreated.

Sighing, they said gently, "Come home if you're unhappy. You'll always be our precious daughter."

After giving her some words of comfort, they ended the call.

With her family's support, Jasmine didn't feel as broken anymore.

Once she calmed down, she made a call to a local garden service.

"Hello, I'd like to remove the flowers in my yard."

A worker came soon after with a mower. He looked at the full blooms and said, "Ms. Mendoza, they're blooming so well. Are you sure you want them gone?"

Jasmine answered without hesitation, "Yes."

The person who once planted those flowers for her was no longer the same. There was no reason to keep them anymore.

Three days later, Carl returned home with Whitney by his side.

Over those three days, Carl took Whitney to hike the snowy mountains and visit Muskoka Lake.

Each time they went somewhere, Whitney would upload sweet photos of her and Carl to Facebook. Jasmine couldn't help but see them. After glancing through the posts, she quietly blocked Whitney's account.

When the two returned, Jasmine was eating breakfast. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Whitney walk in, holding a panting Rottweiler on a leash.

Whitney smiled brightly. "Ms. Mendoza, Carl bought it for me. Isn't he adorable?"

Jasmine's face instantly turned pale. Terrifying memories she had long buried came rushing back. She stared at Carl in disbelief. "You let her bring a dog back?"

Carl looked annoyed, thinking she was overreacting. "The doctor said having a pet would help Whitney get better. This one is trained. It won't hurt anyone."

He knew that Jasmine was afraid of dogs.

He had once seen her covered in bites from a full-grown Rottweiler. Since then, even well-behaved dogs could make her panic. Just the sight of one was enough to shake her to the core. And now, he had chosen to reopen that wound for Whitney.

Noticing Jasmine's reaction, Whitney put on a pitiful expression. "Sorry, Carl. I didn't know Ms. Mendoza was scared of dogs. Maybe I should just move out. My condition isn't serious anyway. As long as I take my meds, I won't think of harming myself."

Carl immediately snapped, "Don't say that! I won't let you live alone. It's not safe."

Then he turned to Jasmine and said coldly, "If you're that scared, just stay in your room."

She was the hostess of the house, yet she was being treated like she didn't belong. She couldn't even say no.

It didn't matter anymore. She'd be gone in just two days.

Jasmine turned and headed upstairs. A little while later, Whitney came in with the Rottweiler. There was a cold, twisted smile on her face. "Jasmine, Carl doesn't want you, but you still hang around. If I were you, I'd be too embarrassed to live."

When Jasmine saw the dog, she instinctively stepped back, trying to stay calm. "I'll be gone soon."

Whitney raised an eyebrow, surprised by her response. She laughed, flicking the leash in her hand. "You? Give up that easily? It doesn't matter if you mean it or not.

"You're not getting that chance."

Right after saying that, Whitney let go of the leash.

The Rottweiler sprang toward Jasmine and bared its teeth.

The Rottweiler's sharp teeth pierced Jasmine's palm.

A sharp wave of pain surged through her body, causing her to collapse to the ground as blood spilled everywhere.

The strong scent of blood seemed to excite the dog. It clamped down harder and dragged her across the floor, leaving a long, red trail. The heavy bleeding caused her to lose consciousness.

When she woke up again, she was in a hospital bed with both arms tightly bandaged. Turning her head, she saw Carl sitting nearby. He quickly reached out to steady her as she tried to sit up.

"Don't move. I just finished stitching your wounds."

"Get your hands off me!" Jasmine snapped.

Worried he might upset her, Carl slowly pulled his hands back. "Alright, Jasmine. Don't get too worked up."

The memory of what had happened earlier rushed back, making Jasmine tremble.

She tried to stay composed, but her voice still shook. "Whitney let that dog attack me on purpose. I want to report her. Give me your phone."

Carl gently held her shoulders, speaking softer than usual, "Let's not go that far, Jasmine. I know you're hurt, and I'll make it up to you. Whitney didn't mean to. She felt so terrible that she almost committed suicide."

Jasmine stared at him in disbelief. "Do you even realize I nearly died?"

"I do. Didn't Grandpa always want us to have a baby? Let's spend the night together."

Jasmine's chest felt tight and sore like her heart was being ripped apart.

She bit her lip hard until she tasted blood, suppressing her discomfort.

"What if I say no?" she asked.

Carl seemed to have expected Jasmine's resistance, showing a cruel smile. "Isn't your dad dealing with a heart condition? He'll head back to America for surgery soon. I'll be the one operating on him."

Unexpectedly, he was using her father's life to threaten her.

She had no other choice.

Jasmine gave a bitter smile. "Fine."

Carl grabbed a waiver from the table and passed it to her. Seeing how pale she looked, he softened his tone and said, "I'll come home early tonight. Wait for me."

"No need."

At that point, she had completely lost hope in him and no longer expected anything from him.

But Carl didn't take her words seriously.

He believed Jasmine cared about him too much to ever truly be upset.

After signing the papers, Jasmine went to handle the discharge process. Just then, Whitney showed up in tears, grabbing her hand. "I'm sorry, Ms. Mendoza. It's all my fault. If you're angry, you can hit me or yell at me."

Jasmine's wound still throbbed, and she didn't want to argue.

But Whitney dug her nails into the injured spot and wouldn't let go. Jasmine winced from the pain and pushed her away.

She barely pushed her, yet Whitney suddenly fell to the ground, clutching her face and looking heartbroken. "Ms. Mendoza, if that's not enough, go ahead and kick me again. I'll take it, as long as you can forgive me."

People nearby, unaware of the full story, began criticizing Jasmine.

"Did she just hit someone in public? That girl looks hurt."

"Poor thing. She must've messed with the wrong person."

Before Jasmine could say anything, someone shoved her from behind.

She slammed into the counter, hitting her wound. Her face turned pale from the pain.

She stayed still for a long time as the ache slowly faded. Then, she turned and saw that the one who pushed her was Carl.

He saw the red mark on Whitney's face and stared at Jasmine. "What's wrong with you?

"You know Whitney is dealing with depression. Are you going to keep pushing her until she commits suicide?"

Carl's words undoubtedly pushed Jasmine into the spotlight.

People nearby began whispering and pointing, hurling cruel comments at her like knives.

"How heartless can she be? She tried to push a girl to her death!"

"She's got depression. Couldn't you have talked things through?"

Jasmine was the one injured, the one whose wounds had reopened, but Carl didn't notice, and she didn't feel like explaining.

Even if she did, he wouldn't believe her.

Jasmine left the hospital silently.

Not long after she got home, Carl also returned. He stood by the window, changing into pajamas. Glancing at the garden, he looked confused. "What happened to the jasmine flowers? Why are they all gone?"

They'd gone for three days, and he just noticed it.

Without looking up, Jasmine said flatly, "They got a fungus and died."

Carl didn't question it and tossed his clothes into the laundry bin. "I'll plant the new ones for you later."

Then, he turned and went into the bathroom.

When the sound of running water came from inside, Jasmine's phone rang. It was her lawyer.

"Ms. Mendoza, the divorce paperwork is nearly ready on Mr. Sinclair's end. Should we let him know now?"

Jasmine replied calmly, "No. Let him know tomorrow. You can choose the time."

As she ended the call, Carl walked out of the bathroom, water dripping from his hair, sliding down his muscular chest, and disappearing into his robe.

Jasmine had no interest in looking at it.

It was ironic. Back then, she'd done everything she could to get close to Carl, but he never wanted her. Now, he was the one trying.

As he approached, Jasmine said expressionlessly, "I don't want to. My injury still hurts."

She stood up to leave, but he yanked her back with a sneer. "Stop playing hard to get, Jasmine. If you didn't want this, then why work so hard to climb into my bed before? Don't test my patience, or I may regret it."

Jasmine scoffed, anger rising inside her.

She wondered why he acted like she still needed him after everything he'd done.

"I won't regret it. And I won't bother you anymore."

Carl frowned, clearly annoyed. "Jasmine, you—"

Before he finished, his phone rang.

A panicked nurse's voice came through. "Mr. Sinclair, Ms. Lawrence heard you were staying with Ms. Mendoza tonight. She tried to kill herself and cut her wrists."

Carl's eyes went red. He suddenly grabbed Jasmine's neck.

"Did you tell Whitney about this?"

Jasmine's face turned red as she struggled to breathe. Carl's face started to blur in her vision.

Just when she thought he would kill her, he let go and shoved her to the floor. "If something happens to Whitney, I'll make you pay."

Jasmine gasped for breath as she looked up and saw Carl storming off.

Just then, her phone lit up with a message.

"Jasmine, you'll never be good enough to compete with me."

It was from Whitney, but Jasmine didn't respond to her provocation.

Her body was already so used to the pain that it didn't matter anymore. Nothing could hurt her now.

She just felt bad for the pretty bow the doctor had tied over her bandage.

Carl didn't come back that night. Jasmine couldn't sleep because of how badly she hurt. She finally decided to get up and start packing. She didn't want to leave behind anything that would remind her of him.

At 3:00 a.m., she burned all the photos and gifts Carl had given her.

At 4:00 a.m., she tossed her clothes and toiletries into the trash.

At 5:00 a.m., she started filling her suitcase.

At 6:00 a.m., she was ready to leave and called a taxi to the airport.

Before leaving the Sinclair's manor, she looked back at the bedroom one last time. It had once been her favorite place because Carl had been there. But now, she realized that nothing mattered more than herself.

Then, Jasmine remembered her father's illness. After thinking for a bit, she made one last call to Carl.

His voice was full of annoyance. "Jasmine, what now? Whitney is in the hospital. It's serious. I don't have time to deal with you."

Before she could speak, he hung up.

Staring at the screen, Jasmine gave a bitter laugh.

At that moment, whatever love she had left for Carl vanished.

She blocked his number, removed her SIM card, and tossed it into the trash. Then, she got into the taxi and headed to the airport.

She'd never see Carl again.