Chapter 300: Loren’s Last Breath... or Curse.
[Flashback]
Jasmine listened to the steady beeping of the heart monitor, her eyes fixed on the woman lying in the bed. Loren looked frail, her body wasted away from the long battle with her illness. Although the beauty was still intact, her current state told a different story than that of the tale of the once fierce and rising CEO of LL Construction.
"It’s a shame, Loren," she whispered, watching as Loren weakly opened her eyes. "You used to be so pretty, so full of life, and so... successful."
Perhaps this was the first time Jasmine had ever been brutally honest with herself. Loren had everything Jasmine didn’t. Although Loren had lost her mother early, she’d had a loving father who cared for her. A father who had assumed both roles of a parent and had secured his daughter a wonderful future.
Jasmine, on the other hand, had wished her parents were dead. They were that useless. And it often made her wonder why she was even born into such a pathetic family.
Beauty, wealth, power, wit—Loren had once embodied them all. But now, that admirable woman was nothing more than skin and bones, with no one by her side except her useless daughter. As for Jasmine, she used to have nothing but her beauty; she was even prettier than Loren. But now, she had something.
But something was not what Jasmine wanted. What she wanted was everything, and she could only get that if Loren died.
"Loren, you should just let go." Jasmine lowered her head to Loren’s ear and whispered, "Why are you still holding on?"
Loren had been expected to die within a year of her diagnosis. Yet more than a year had passed, and she still clung to life. Jasmine’s frustration had long since curdled into impatience.
"Stop making other people suffer," she added, her gaze sliding over the pitiful patient. "Loren, just stop breathing, will you?"
A tear slipped from the corner of Loren’s eye but not from weakness, but from the clarity with which she stared at Jasmine’s face. Slowly, she removed her oxygen mask to speak.
"Jasmine," her voice rasped, each word costing her breath. "My death... is not a win for you. It’s just the beginning of your misery."
The smirk on Jasmine’s lips faltered. Loren’s pale lips curved into a faint, mocking smile, the corners of her eyes sharpening despite her frailty.
"The only shame is your... daughter. I pity your child," she gasped, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "I pity your poor daughter."
Jasmine’s fists clenched. Even on her deathbed, this woman looked down on her.
"Don’t worry about my child, Loren," Jasmine laughed coldly, her hands closing around Loren’s throat. In a second, she was squeezing with all her strength. "If there’s someone you should worry about, it’s yours."
Leaning closer, she hissed in her ear. "Before you die, just know that the daughter you’re leaving behind will suffer twice as much as you ever did. I’ll make sure of it."
Her grip tightened as Loren weakly tried to pry her hands away. But when Loren finally gave up, she released a short, airy, triumphant laugh before her last breath.
*****
Meanwhile, at LL Construction headquarters, Lawrence sat in his office. Dark bags sagged under his eyes, his hair mussed from constant stroking, his beard unkempt. He looked every bit the part of a man on the edge.
"This is wrong," he muttered, massaging his brow.
On his desk lay a loan contract from a trusted bank. Signing it would grant temporary relief for his projects, but at the cost of steep interest and collateral that encompassed everything he owned. It was a reprieve that promised only more suffering later.
One of his projects wouldn’t be finished for another six months. By then, the repayments would crush him.
"I might lose everything," he whispered. Clients were already furious at the delays, unwilling to give him an advance.
He leaned back, trying to breathe. Since leaving the residence, he’d had no time for anything else, not even his anger toward Jasmine. Survival had consumed him. Yet, his wife had no idea.
"I shouldn’t have bought back all those lands," he muttered. Yet if he hadn’t, Chairman Lancaster would have further delayed the engagement, which was already postponed countless times.
"I should... I should convince Melissa and Derek to hasten their engagement and wedding," he whispered. "Once she’s part of the Lancaster family, they won’t let LL Construction fall."
He rocked his head back and forth, clinging to that thought as his only hope. Given all the support he’d given Derek over the years, surely he was entitled to something in return.
After a long pause, he straightened, picked up his pen, and hesitated only a moment before signing. With that stroke, Lawrence sealed one of the most consequential decisions of his life.
*****
[Penthouse]
Lola’s humming mingled with the running water as she enjoyed her warm shower after a long day. But as she rinsed herself, a noise outside made her pause. She turned toward the bathroom door.
"Atlas?" she called. "Is it you?"
She shut off the water, listening to any sound. All she heard was silence. Her brows furrowed. She turned the shower back on, only to hear the sound again.
Lola quickly turned it off. "Atlas, is that you?! I’m here!" she shouted. Still, no response.
Her mouth pulled into a frown. She rinsed off hurriedly, then reached out for a towel. Wrapping it around herself, she stepped out cautiously.
The master bedroom was dim, the light still on. Nothing seemed out of place. Lola lingered at the door, scanning the room again. Then her eyes landed on the slightly ajar bedroom door just as she had left it.
"Atlas?" she called, moving toward it. Beyond the open door lay only darkness. "Atlas, is it you?"
She peeked into the hall, then stepped onto the mezzanine. Below, the lights were already off. She hadn’t left them that way. Her pulse quickened as the alarm bells in her head started ringing.
In the next second, every light in the penthouse went dark.
Without a second hesitation, Lola bolted for the bedroom, slamming and locking the door. But before relief could sink in, a metallic click echoed in her ear and something cold pressed against her temple.