Jarrod felt a sudden, searing pain in his temples.

He lurched forward, grasping the edge of the gurney, disbelief etched on his face.

He needed confirmation!

The doctor, frowning, tried to pull Jarrod's hand away.

"Sir, you're hindering our emergency treatment!"

Jarrod's refusal to move aside prompted the doctor to push him harder.

“Please, don't obstruct our efforts to save her!"

Jarrod's mind snapped back, and he slowly loosened his grip. But then, a weak grasp caught his hand.

"Nicole!" Jarrod's voice was a mix of shock and surprise.

Nicole's eyes fluttered open, the whites stained with red. She looked at him, unmoving.

“Jarrod, you got what you wanted. You've killed our child yourself!"

Nicole's voice, rough and strained as though scorched by flames, was barely audible. Her words were difficult to discern.

Jarrod, reading her lips, felt as if struck by lightning.

Was the child he had sought to eliminate actually his own?

Nicole's blurred vision couldn't discern his expression. All she saw were shadowy figures. Her hand weakly slipped down.

“Jarrod,” she whispered.

"My dying wish is for you to be cursed with illness and loneliness throughout your life..."

Her voice, filled with hatred, despair, and revulsion, was hoarse and feeble.

Jarrod watched her lips closely, deciphering each word that others couldn't.

He felt as if her bloodied hand was choking him, his hand stiffening in response.