She lacks fundamental empathy! How can you entrust such a malevolent woman with Austin's well-being? Doreen endeavored to create a division between Nicole and the child.

“Why should I extend my compassion to you?" Nicole found it amusing and replied bluntly, “The current ordeal is a consequence of your actions alone. My lack of applause is indicative of my upbringing. Nevertheless, rest assured, it doesn't hinder my silent support for our country's justice system!"

Doreen's face paled with anger, rendered speechless and unable to retort a single word.

In that instant, the wail of police sirens permeated the surroundings.

An officer strode in, inquiring, “Who called the police here?"

Nicole didn't hesitate, promptly raising her hand. "It was me!"

"Ma'am, what transpired?" the officer inquired, drawing nearer.

Nicole gestured toward Doreen and remarked, "She attempted to throw sulfuric acid on me!"

Upon spotting the police, Doreen's legs buckled beneath her. Earlier, in a blind rage after being assaulted, she had impulsively arranged for someone to fetch her a bottle of sulfuric acid in a bid to disfigure Nicole.

Now, confronted by the law, panic seized Doreen. She blurted out, "I didn't do it! It wasn't me!"

Tears began to stream down Doreen's face as she assumed the role of a victim. "Officer, I'm a victim too. I was raped, and the attacker claimed there was someone orchestrating it. I know who it is. Officer, I can tell you!"

The officer, unmoved by Doreen's theatrics, responded with a stern frown. "Miss, please clarify what you're saying."

“It's her! She orchestrated it all. That's why I was so enraged and resorted to sulfuric acid!" Doreen exclaimed desperately.

Doreen was indeed resourceful. Finding turning to Jarrod for help was futile, she swiftly shifted her strategy. By painting Nicole as the puppeteer behind her assault, she hoped to cast her own heinous act as a crime of desperation, an instinctive defense that might mitigate her punishment. Yet, the outcome was uncertain.

Just then, the wail of sirens filled the air as an ambulance pulled up. Paramedics rushed out, quickly maneuvering Jarrod onto a stretcher.

Jarrod's back bore the brutal evidence of the acid attack. Severe burns and blistered skin peeked out from under the tattered remains of his shirt.

Prostrate and in pain, Jarrod was helpless as the paramedics prepared to transport him to the hospital.

As the paramedics worked urgently, Doreen fixated only on her looming crisis. She darted to Jarrod's stretcher, seizing his arm and pleading through tears, “Jarrod, you can't let them arrest me. Help me, please..."

Her grip tightened, fingers digging into Jarrod's already grievous wounds, heedless of the agony she inflicted.

Jarrod's face drained of color, his pain so intense that he couldn't utter a word. Sweat beaded his forehead profusely. In the next instant, his strength gave out.