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Spencer's eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like a demon crawling out of hell. He slowly curled his lips and delivered the fatal blow to Jerome. “Do you know who she called for help in her last phone call before she jumped to her death? She believed until the end that you would save her, but what were you doing at that moment?” What was he doing? Jerome couldn't help but recall. What was he doing on the day Queena jumped to her death? He was helping Sandra prepare for the wedding... When Sandra demanded his love, he held her tightly, clinging to her... Jerome collapsed onto the ground, reliving the details of that day as if torturing himself. Regret surged like a tidal wave, overwhelming him in an instant. The next moment, a suffocating pain erupted from his chest, and he clenched his fists tightly, trying to suppress the metallic taste rising from his internal organs. But it was no use. A wave of burning metallic taste surged up his throat, and he suddenly turned