Jasper completely forgot it was the women's bathroom as he rushed inside. The scene that met his eyes was horrific: Amanda had lost all control and was truly trying to kill Elena.
"Amanda!"
Amanda heard nothing. She simply stared coldly at her own hand as she repeatedly slammed Elena's head into the blood-slicked floor. Jasper lunged forward to pull her away, terrified that another blow would end Elena's life.
"Amanda, calm down!"
When she finally looked at him, Jasper recoiled. A long streak of blood was smeared across her face, and her eyes held a deadly, hollow chill that made her look like a devil crawling out of hell.
"Let go!" she roared, struggling violently against Jasper's grip. "I want to kill her! Let me go!"
Jasper was stunned by her cruelty, but he held her even tighter. "That's enough, Amanda!" he shouted, trying to drown out her madness with his own voice.
"Let go!"
"I won't! What happens to you after you kill her? Did you think about that?" Jasper yelled, his heart aching. He was desperate; if she actually committed murder, how could he possibly save her?
Stunned by his shouting, Amanda's movements slowed. Her breathing became heavy and jagged, and a crushing weight settled on her chest, making every breath an agonizing struggle. Her resistance faded, replaced by a violent tremor as tears began to flow silently down her cheeks.
"Ugh..." She clutched her chest, her legs turning to lead. She began to sink to the floor, but Jasper caught her before she hit the ground.
"Amanda!"
Just then, the sound of frantic footsteps echoed down the hall. Quentin burst into the room. He froze for a split second, seeing the girl he loved sitting limply on the floor in Jasper's arms.
Amanda heard his voice and raised her tear-filled eyes, searching for him. "Quentin..."
Hearing her whisper his name made Quentin's heart contract with a sharp, physical pain. He stepped forward and pulled her out of Jasper's embrace. Amanda clung to him instantly, her composure shattering into a sob.
"Quentin... I want to kill her!"
Quentin held her trembling body tight. He didn't need to know the details; he simply looked at Elena, who was being clumsily bandaged by Winter. He patted Amanda's back to reassure her, his voice a soft, dangerous whisper:
"Okay. I'll kill her for you."
Finding the ultimate support she needed, Amanda buried her face in his chest and cried her heart out.
Standing nearby, Jasper watched them and couldn't help but offer a bitter, self-deprecating smile. He finally understood why the stubborn, independent Amanda had chosen this man. When she wanted to kill someone, Jasper had been scared—he had worried about the consequences and how to save her. But Quentin? Without a moment's hesitation, he was willing to commit the crime for her.
Nearby, Javier—who had been hiding in the shadows hoping to see Diego's reputation ruined—was fuming. He hadn't expected to find Elena half-dead, nor had he expected to see Amanda leaning so completely on Quentin. Clenching his fists to suppress his jealousy, he finally stepped out, picked up the nearly unconscious Elena, and rushed her toward the hospital.
Winter looked at the chaotic, blood-stained bathroom and sighed. She reached out a hand to help Jasper up. Jasper looked at the girl—usually the clumsiest of the group, yet currently the most composed—and let out a sharp smack against her palm before standing up on his own.
Winter winced at the sting, pulling her hand back to secretly glare at him.
After a few minutes, Amanda's sobs subsided into hiccups. She clutched the hem of Quentin's shirt and choked out, "Quentin... Brother... he was drugged..."
Quentin's brow furrowed slightly. He didn't particularly care if Diego lived or died, but he gently wiped Amanda's tears. "I know."
Winter and Jasper, however, were not nearly as calm. They looked at each other in a panic.
"Didn't you take Ms. Celia with you?" Winter asked.
Jasper stammered, his face pale. "I... I think I locked the door when I ran out."
Amanda stopped crying instantly. The three of them shared a look of pure horror.
Meanwhile, the "forgotten" Celia was sitting with her legs curled in a corner of the guest room. She was glaring at Diego, who had regained some of his senses—mostly because she had tied him to the bedpost.
"Cece, untie me," Diego pleaded. He looked helplessly at the girl who clearly wished she could chop him into pieces. His temples throbbed as he closed his eyes, trying to fight the lingering effects of the drug. "Cece, listen to me. I need to go to the hospital!"
Seeing his weakened state, Celia's heart softened. She began to untie him, grumbling, "If you ever dare to try something like that again, I'll beat you again."
Once freed, Diego let out a helpless sigh. "You say that as if you haven't already cracked my head open."
Celia pouted but reached out to help him up. "You're too damn heavy," she muttered as they slowly made their way to the door.
But the moment they pulled the door open, a flash of light blinded them. A swarm of reporters had appeared out of nowhere, crowding the hallway.
"Vice President Solis, do you have a statement?"
"Is this your girlfriend?"
"Are you planning to marry into the entertainment industry? Will your family accept her?"
"Get out of the way! What are you doing?" Celia shouted, pushed back by the crush of people.
Diego's expression turned lethal. He used his remaining strength to shield Celia, his voice a low roar. "Who dares to take a photo? I'll sue every one of you!"
The trap was complete. Elena might have been gone, but with Celia being a recognizable public figure, the media didn't care who the woman was—as long as they had a scandal involving a Solis in a hotel room.