Victor and Mark were miraculously alive! It was a jumble of emotions — shocking, terrifying, and oddly relieving. I didn't want them dead, but their survival presented a whole new set of fears and consequences. I had no clue if Mark knew my mother was behind the attack, and at this point, it hardly seemed to matter. What haunted me most was the idea of facing Victor's wrath in the aftermath.
In a desperate attempt to avoid the impending torment, I found myself trying to plead with Mark to finish me off, but the words simply wouldn't come out. It seemed like no one cared about what I had to say; the focus was on Archer, who lay dying. The dread of facing Victor, the man I loved, and the prospect of being at his mercy felt inescapable.
To my surprise, Victor's actions were puzzlingly contradictory. Instead of treating me like a disposable pawn, he picked me up gently from the floor and even allowed a female doctor to tend to my wounds. I couldn't understand his motives; all I knew was that he wanted me alive, not for my own sake, but to meet some twisted end he had planned. Victor’s unpredictability made me more apprehensive.
As we were being carried towards an aircraft, I caught sight of Mark watching from a distance. In that fleeting moment, I desperately wanted him to know the truth — that I hadn't sent Adolf and Venom to attack him. I needed to clear my name, even if I didn't fully comprehend the significance of it at the time.
Summoning all the strength left in me, I mustered a whisper, calling out to Chad. He turned to me with cold gazes, and the effort to speak was excruciating. Tears streamed down my face, a testament to my own vulnerability. "Please, tell Mark it wasn't me," I managed to say, my voice barely audible.
Chad frowned and glanced at Mark, beckoning him over. Mark approached, his eyes distant and frigid. Chad informed him, "I think she has something to say to you."
Mark met my gaze, and I could see the doubt in his eyes. But still, I persisted, "The attack on you and Barbara, it wasn't me. It was my mother, Patricia. There's evidence on her phone." Breathing heavily, I closed my eyes, trying to gather my strength.
His skepticism was apparent, Mark searched my pockets and found the waterproof phone. "It's still there," I assured him amidst tears, the pain of my wounds now mingling with the anguish in my heart.
His response was far from comforting, "You shouldn't have come after Adele, Jessica," he said coldly, turning away and walking off.
The guards continued transporting me to the aircraft, my body strapped tightly to the stretcher with various tubes attached to my body. I was in agony, both physically and emotionally. I wished Mark had ended it all back there, sparing me from the torment that awaited.
As the aircraft took off and the world shrank beneath us, Victor made an entrance, stepping into the cabin. The dread intensified as I realized there was no escaping the clutches of the man who was still the love of my life.
Victor remained utterly silent, not even sparing a glance in my direction as he passed by me to use the lavatory. It was a cold, piercing feeling as if I were invisible, and my heart ached deeply.
Soon, we reached our destination, and to my shame, I realized we were back in Brooks. I dreaded being seen like this, weak, injured, and at Victor’s mercy.
The guards carried me to my old room, gently placing me on the bed. Victor's medical team attended to me, washing my body and dressing me in a hospital gown. Then, they positioned me face down on the bed as the doctors administered injections and tended to my wounds. All the while, I sensed Victor's presence, even if I couldn't see him directly.
Overhearing the doctor's words, my breath trembled, and tears welled up quietly. "She is going to need a kidney transplant, the one she has is damaged," the doctor informed.
Victor wasted no time in taking charge, "I will make calls while you make arrangements for the transplant."
As the medical team left the room, Victor remained behind, giving us a moment alone. Fear gripped me as I expected him to unleash his wrath upon me. But to my surprise, he crouched down to meet my gaze, and his words cut through the air like ice, "I bet you never thought you would be back here…"
In a desperate plea, I whispered, "Please, just let me die…"
His voice remained cold and accusing, "And why would I want to do that, Jessica? You tried several times to have me killed, and you shot my son in the chest!"
Tears streamed down my face as I cried, "I'm sorry…"
The accusations continued, and Victor's anger seemed insurmountable. "You fucking killed your mother!"
Between sobs, I managed to explain, "She killed my child first! She killed my baby…"
Victor was incredulous, "What child? You're insane!"
Through my weak and trembling voice, I revealed the painful truth, "I was pregnant with your baby. She drugged me and aborted our child right here in this room…"
Victor dismissed my words, refusing to believe me, "Making up lies will not get you out of this, Jessica…"
But I persisted, crying out my heartbreak, "Ask her maid. She knew. I wanted to tell you. She said you would kill me with the child, that she did me a favor. I wish she had just killed me then. I wished you had killed me then. Why wouldn't you just kill me now!"
Feeling utterly lost and abandoned, I believed there was nothing left to live for. Victor hated me, and I was certain Archer felt the same.
Victor departed without uttering a word, leaving me to wrestle with the effects of the medication that soon plunged me into a troubled and haunting dream. My subconscious was plagued by my mother's bloodied figure, a grim reminder of her violent end. The disturbing cries of a baby followed, echoing through the nightmarish haze.
When I finally awoke, the room remained shrouded in darkness. I attempted to move my hands, only to discover that I was handcuffed to the bed. Fear and helplessness overwhelmed me as I called out weakly, "Help me, is anyone there… I can't live like this…"
A chilling response reverberated through the room, as Victor's voice filled the air. He switched on the bedside lamp, his figure crouching by the side of the bed. His knuckles were bloodied, a testament to the violence he must had recently inflicted on someone.
"Your story checked out. You were pregnant, and Patricia took it out. But she was right to warn you not to get pregnant with my child. However, she was wrong to make that decision without my consent," Victor stated coldly. "I understand you have issues with your mother, Jessica. Normal people go to therapy, not resort to mutilating their mothers. Did she deserve it? Perhaps. But you had other options; you could have come to me…"
I couldn't help but respond, my voice trembling, "You just said you would have killed me!"
"Yes, I would have killed you to prevent Patricia from handling my business, but she was still your mother," he retorted.
"She had no right to kill my child!" I protested, my pain and anger evident.
"I admitted it. I acknowledged it. But you have to understand, Patricia is my wife too. She is referred to as Patricia Donovan," Victor clarified coldly. "Jessica, I can't allow you to be free and let people think they can just enter my home – a place I offered as sanctuary – and commit acts of violence under my protection."
Feeling the weight of my despair, I couldn't bear the torment any longer. "Then just end it, Victor!" I cried out, my emotions overwhelming me.
He considered my plea with an unsettling calmness, "Hmm… Interestingly, Archer doesn't want me to kill you…"
Bitterly, I muttered, "He is your son, after all," unable to ignore the irony in his hesitation.
Victor's tone remained detached, "Archer believes you need a psychologist. Do you, Jessica?"
My heart ached, and I didn't see a way out of this torment. "I'd rather you just shoot me in the head, Victor," I confessed, seeking an escape from the anguish.
A sinister satisfaction crept into his response, "Ah, but that's precisely why you won't be allowed to die."
Desperation laced my plea, "Victor, please…"
He seemed unyielding, unaffected by my suffering. "By the way, the damage to your back is not just to your kidney. The doctor said you might not be able to walk again," he stated matter-of-factly.
Shocked and disheartened, I stammered, "What?"
His heartless words cut deep, "So you should be very comfy on that bed."
Trapped both physically and emotionally, I realized there was no easy way out of this ordeal. Victor's vindictiveness and Archer's intervention had sealed my fate, condemning me to a life of suffering and confinement.
"Victor, please, don't do this! My love, please!" I cried out, my heart shattered by the overwhelming pain. In my anguish, my words spilled out without thought, and all I could focus on was the desire to end my suffering.
He coldly retorted, "Can you hear yourself? You claim to love me, yet you hired killers to end my life. You targeted my son and his pregnant wife, and you shot him in the chest."
Tears streamed down my face as I pleaded, "Victor, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."
The revelation that Adele was pregnant and now referred to as Archer's wife twisted a knife in my heart. The girl had achieved what I had yearned for most in my life, and my jealousy only added to the despair.
He remained unmoved, his resolve unyielding, "Yes, Jessica, you will have plenty of years to reflect on how sorry you are."
As Victor stood up and prepared to leave, I clung to the last shred of hope, crying desperately, "Victor?! Victor, please!" But he walked away, leaving me alone in the room, utterly helpless.
Overwhelmed by the situation and the realization that this was now my life, I sobbed brokenly. The weight of my actions and the consequences that followed were too heavy to bear. Trapped and handcuffed to the bed, I felt an overwhelming urge to escape, even if it meant crawling to the window and attempting the impossible.
The room echoed with my cries, but there was no one to save me from the depths of my own despair. My life had spiraled into a dark and inescapable abyss, and I couldn't see a way out.