She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 698

Everything suddenly made perfect sense.

Why else would all these powerful men fall to their knees for her?

Lucas had faced exile for her. Waylon had thrown himself off a third-story balcony for her. And even Rowan had sliced his own face and sent his entire family to prison for her.

She knew the original Lyra perfectly well. A pretty face meant nothing to titans like Rowan; they would never have fallen for an empty-headed socialite.

"Let me out!"

"Let me out!"

Jasmine lunged at the iron bars like a rabid dog, smashing her palms against the freezing metal. Over and over she slammed her hands, ignoring the agony radiating from her knuckles. Her piercing, psychotic screams echoed down the pitch-black cell block. "I need to see him!"

The other inmates jolted awake, glaring murderously at the screeching woman.

A towering female guard charged into the block, her heavy boots echoing on the concrete. Despite repeated warnings to stand down, Jasmine ignored her entirely, violently rattling the bars and babbling insane, incomprehensible theories as she spiraled into a total psychotic break.

Realizing verbal commands were useless, two guards tackled her to the ground, their batons coming down hard across her arms and spine.

"Agh!"

Jasmine's already grotesque face twisted in agony, her body convulsing on the floor. It felt as if her old facial scars were splitting wide open, a searing fire burning through her nerve endings.

She thrashed wildly, but the guards pinned her face-first against the freezing concrete, immobilizing her completely.

"Behave!" the guard roared directly into her ear.

The struggle finally ended, leaving Jasmine collapsed on the floor, every muscle in her body screaming in pain. Her matted hair stuck to her ruined face as she gasped for air. Her violent hysteria had been beaten out of her.

Her chest heaved violently. Through a hoarse, bloodied throat, she continued to mutter into the concrete. "It's not her... That's not the real Lyra... The real one would never act like that. I want the old Lyra back."

That night, a severe fever ravaged her body. Sweating profusely and drifting into delirium, she plunged straight into a nightmare.

She dreamt that Lyra died alone in a rundown apartment. Rowan had arrived just moments after her heart stopped. But before Jasmine could celebrate her ultimate victory, a single sentence ignited total annihilation: Your sister-in-law's twins didn't make it. The Fairchild bloodline is dead.

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