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“Then I’ll take the goddamn responsibility!” he barked.

She let out a bitter laugh, eyes shimmering with emotion. “Again! How many more girls are you going to be responsible for, Mr. Moretti?” she cried out.

The house fell into a thick, suffocating silence.

Krystal drew in a deep, trembling breath and steadied herself before speaking again. “I’m not giving birth. And I’m not going to beg anyone to be a father to my child or a husband to me.”

She walked to the door, opening it wide.

“Leave. Now.”

Lorenzo’s jaw clenched tight. He took a step closer. "Krystal—"

“From the moment you filed for divorce,” she cut him off coldly, “there was nothing left between us. You should leave me alone now.”

Her voice was icy. Final.

“Leave,” she repeated.

Lorenzo’s burning eyes dropped to the paper in his hand. Then, without a word, he crushed the paper in his fist and hurled it to the floor with a sharp snap. The sound echoed like a slap in the silence, and without looking back, he stormed out of the house.

The next day, Lorenzo barreled through the pristine corridors of Bristen Hospital. Spotting Damion, he didn’t slow down. In the middle of the hallway, he grabbed him by the collar, shoving him backward until his back slammed into the wall—and landed a brutal punch straight to his jaw.

Damion barely stumbled before retaliating, slamming Lorenzo off and landing a solid hit across his face.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” Damion gritted, shoving him off with force.

Lorenzo, already bruised and bleeding, advanced again like a man possessed. “Since your parents clearly didn’t teach you how to be a man, I’ll teach you myself.”

***

“I heard they both got hurt pretty bad. There was blood—everywhere,” a nurse whispered behind her hand.

“It got messy,” another said, wide-eyed. “So much commotion. Who would even dare to hit Mr. Cage? He owns this place.”

Krystal froze mid-step just outside Bristen’s entrance, overhearing the conversation. She had come to tell Damion shewas quitting. Her job was done—Esther was treated, and now that the truth was out, she had no reason to stay.

“That other guy—he’s a rich businessman too, right?” one nurse whispered, eyes wide with curiosity. “Maybe they’re friends and just got into a friendly fight.”

“Are you delusional, Julia?” the other hissed, shooting her a sharp look. “Two guys bleeding like that doesn’t exactly scream ‘friendly fight,’ does it?”

Krystal’s heart dropped. She ran inside, heels echoing off the floor as she sprinted toward Damion’s office.

When she turned the corner, her breath caught.

Lorenzo was mid-punch, his face bruised and bloodied, slamming his fist into Damion’s jaw again. The VVIP floor was quiet—only a few doctors were around, and the patient rooms were too far to notice the chaos.

Without thinking, she rushed forward and shoved Lorenzo hard, placing herself between the two men.

"Stop it!" she shouted, breathless. Her voice rang through the empty corridor. "What the hell are you doing?"

Lorenzo froze mid-punch, inches from her face, chest heaving. He growled, fists shaking at his sides.

"You’re protecting him?" he barked. "Even after how he treated you?"

"You were my husband for two years," she fired back, fury crackling in her voice. "How didyoutreat me? Who the hell are you to judge anyone?"

He jabbed a finger at her. "So this is it? This is how you get back at me?Thisguy?He’s the one you picked?" His voice thunderedas he pointed at Damion. "This asshole who can’t even care for his own child?"