The harsh, sterile light of the emergency room in the city’s most luxurious private hospital cast a cold glow. On the large hospital bed, Elena lay curled up beneath a thin, pale blue blanket. Her face was deathly pale, devoid of any color, and her vibrant red hair—once her ultimate pride—was now matted against the headboard, soaked in sweat and tears.

Beatrice did not stop at words. The madness fueled by obsession over status and lineage had warped her into a monster. Lunging forward over the hospital bed, she wrapped both of her hands tightly around Elena’s slender neck, pinning her down.

"Agh... Cough..." Elena choked. Her hands weakly clawed at her mother-in-law’s wrists, desperately trying to push away those cold, jewelry-laden hands.

"Please... have mercy..." Elena wheezed, her tears mixing with the blood on her cheeks in a frantic blur. Her face contorted in agony and profound despair. She could not comprehend how her husband's mother could commit such a heinous act on a hospital bed, right after she had just lost her child.

Beatrice bared her teeth, leaning her furious, wrinkled face inches from Elena's. The veins on her forehead and neck bulged violently.

"My son is leaving you! Julian will abandon you for another woman—a woman who can actually carry on the family name and inherit this empire! A useless woman like you never deserved to step foot into my house!"

Every single word from Beatrice felt like a dagger piercing Elena's bleeding heart. It turned out that this marriage, Julian’s love, and even the "accidental" fall down the stairs earlier that afternoon... all of it seemed to be part of a dark script orchestrated by this very woman. Elena finally realized the cruel truth: she was never considered family. The moment she failed to produce a male heir, she became a broken piece of property that needed to be liquidated.

"No... STOP IT!!!"

Summoning every ounce of her remaining strength, Elena let out a gut-wrenching scream that echoed through the vast hospital room. It was the cry of pure helplessness, of grievances suppressed through years of being a daughter-in-law, and the raw agony of a mother who had just lost her baby.

But that scream was instantly cut short. Beatrice ruthlessly slammed her other hand over Elena’s mouth and nose. The decisive slap and brutal pressure forced Elena’s head hard back into the pillow.

"Shut up!" Beatrice whispered sharply, her eyes flashing with a murderous glint.

The air in Elena’s lungs rapidly depleted. She could neither breathe nor call for help. Her eyes rolled back toward the ceiling, watching the encroaching darkness slowly swallow her whole. In the background, through the frosted glass pane of the hospital door, the tall silhouette of a man—perhaps Julian, or an accomplice—stood completely still, watching the scene unfold without making a single move to intervene. Elena’s world completely collapsed in total betrayal.