Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes again, the harsh smell of medical antiseptic filled my lungs.

The storm was gone. The chilling rain had morphed into a deep, throbbing agony radiating from my bones.

I was lying in a private hospital room. According to the chart, I had been unconscious for two full days.

The door clicked open, and Daniel walked in holding a manila folder.

Dark purple shadows bruised the skin beneath his eyes. He hadn't slept a wink since he found me.

"You're awake," he said softly, walking over to pour a cup of warm water. He gently dabbed my cracked lips with a moist cotton swab.

"What did... the surgeon say?" I croaked, staring down at the thick white cast encasing my right arm.

Daniel's hand hesitated. His voice turned gravelly. "Your ring finger suffered a severe comminuted fracture. The delay in treatment caused irreversible nerve necrosis. You won't be able to carry heavy weight with it... and you'll never sketch jewelry again."

I was a jewelry designer.

I had spent countless sleepless nights drafting bestselling collections for Julian's conglomerate, quietly building his corporate empire from the shadows.

Now, my drawing hand was dead.

Perhaps this was fate's way of cutting the cord.

"I understand," I whispered.

"Our relocation paperwork is being expedited. The flight leaves in three days," Daniel said, setting a legal document on the bedside table. "This is an agreement severing all personal and financial ties with Sterling Corp. Sign it, and we leave this city behind forever."

I picked up the pen with my clumsy left hand and scrawled my name on the dotted line.

The nib tore slightly through the paper. I didn't hesitate for a single second.

Daniel stepped outside into the hallway to take an urgent business call.

A moment later, the door swung open again.

Chloe Montgomery walked in.

Around her slender neck hung the custom pink diamond necklace Julian had gifted her at the gala.

Seeing me hooked up to monitors in a hospital gown, the frail, innocent mask fell from her face. She pulled up a chair and crossed her legs with smug elegance.

"Losing your hand must feel devastating, doesn't it, Summer?" she sneered in a hushed tone.

I stared at her, saying nothing.

"I saw the hitmen chasing your car that day," she whispered, examining her manicured nails. "Want to know what I told Julian? I told him you threw a fit because I sat in the front seat, so you stole his keys and sped off to pout."

My chest seized. "He never even checked the highway cameras?"

"Why would he? He hangs on my every word," Chloe chuckled softly. "And that's not all. Three years ago, when you carried him down that muddy hiking trail after his heart episode? I told him it was me who dragged him to the clinic."

She leaned in, her eyes glinting with venom. "Summer, the man you paid for with your blood belongs to me now."

I glared at her victorious face.

"Aren't you terrified of what happens when he discovers the truth?"

"He'll never know. Because he doesn't believe a word that comes out of your mouth."

Chloe smoothed her designer dress and stood up, ready to drop another insult, when heavy, measured footsteps echoed outside the door.

In a split second, Chloe's cruelty melted away.

Her eyes welled with instant tears, and she took two fearful steps back, clutching her hands to her chest like a terrified victim.

The door flew open.

Julian walked in, his tailored suit exuding effortless authority. But the moment his gaze caught Chloe’s trembling frame, his expression turned to ice.

He stepped between us, pulling Chloe behind his shoulder, and fixed me with a piercing glare.

"Summer, what venom did you just spit at Chloe?"

Chloe tugged softly at Julian’s sleeve, sniffling. "Julian, please don't be mad at Summer. She’s injured and hurting. It makes sense that she wants to take her anger out on me."

Suddenly, Chloe touched her bare collarbones and let out a frantic gasp.

"My necklace! It was right here around my neck just a minute ago!"

Julian’s eyes snapped from her bare throat directly onto my hospital bed.