Fine, if you are so set on revenge on me. I'm ready to atone with my life. Is that enough for you?"

With resolve, Nicole moved the glass shard toward her neck.

Thud! Suddenly, the bottle was kicked against the wall!

Nicole's less agile left hand was outpaced by Jarrod's feet.

He kicked her hand, sending a jolt of pain through Nicole's wrist.

Nicole's last hope of death was taken away.

"ALL of you, get out!" Jarrod's voice thundered with fury.

Those men quickly complied, not daring to disobey.

Jarrod pinned Nicole's battered form against the wall.

“Even facing death, Nicole, you defy me? Haven't I said you need my permission to die?"

Nicole's hands drooped, drained of strength. She couldn't raise them.

It was then she realized he had said she needed his permission to die.

She lacked even the freedom to control her own life and death.

A hauntingly beautiful smile appeared on Nicole's face.

“Jarrod, it doesn't matter if you say no. My body is failing. You can unleash all the hatred you want. I am dying."

At that moment, Nicole longed for death. Wouldn't it offer her freedom?

Jarrod was livid at her words. Dying! This again! Her repeated mention of dying was almost like etching that word on her forehead as a stark reminder to him.

Did she seek his sympathy? Then why couldn't she simply yield to him, stop resisting, and avoid despicable deeds?

Jarrod didn't believe she would die, but the word "dying" from her lips always unsettled him.

He convinced himself his unease was because he didn't want her to die too easily. He had more vengeance to exact! Why did she think she could just die?