Chapter 5

Our expedited travel visas were cleared two days later.

After being discharged, Daniel took me straight to his high-security penthouse apartment, cutting off all contact with the outside world.

Every night, I had to swallow heavy painkillers just to snatch an hour or two of fitful sleep.

On our fourth afternoon, Daniel headed over to his firm to finalize the transfer of his remaining corporate assets.

I was curled up on the sofa, watching the gray clouds drift across the Chicago skyline, when his burner phone on the coffee table began to vibrate furiously.

The caller ID displayed the name that used to rule my life: Julian Sterling.

Once upon a time, I had assigned that name a special ringtone.

I kept my phone charged twenty-four hours a day, terrified I’d miss a single text or call from him. Every ping used to send a flutter through my heart.

Now, listening to the mechanical buzzing, all I felt was total numbness.

I swiped the green button with my left thumb and tapped the speaker icon.

"Haven't you thrown your tantrum long enough?"

Julian’s voice was as haughty as ever. "Leaving the hospital without even informing me? You're getting bolder by the day, Summer."

I watched the traffic crawling below. "What do you want?"

My utter flatline seemed to catch him off guard.

In the past, whenever he called, I would scramble to apologize, showering him with desperate warmth, asking when he was coming home for dinner.

The line went silent for several seconds before his tone hardened with annoyance.

"Your mutt attacked Chloe." Julian’s voice turned frigid. "Chloe is allergic to dog hair, and I have zero patience for keeping your stray. You have thirty minutes to come pick it up, or I’m having security throw it onto the street."

My heart clenched.

Bailey was a West Highland White Terrier I had rescued from a storm drain two years ago.

Whenever Julian vanished for weeks on business or leisure, Bailey was the only living soul who stayed by my side through the lonely nights.

"Don't touch him," I said, rising from the couch. "I'm coming."

"Summer," Julian scoffed over the line, "if you want to come back, do it properly. Give Chloe a sincere apology. Stop playing this pathetic game of hard-to-get. I'm sick of it."

He hung up without waiting for an answer.

I looked at the black screen. I wasn't angry. I didn't even care to correct him.

Did he honestly believe I trained a dog to stage an ambush?

Prejudice is a mountain no truth can move.

Think whatever you want, Julian.

As long as I get Bailey out of that house, nothing in your world will ever touch me again.

I pulled on a simple gray hoodie, hailed a cab, and returned to the Sterling estate.

The grand front doors were slightly ajar.

I stepped into the opulent foyer. The very first thing I saw was Bailey, violently pinned against the mahogany staircase railing.

A thin strand of craft wire was twisted tightly around his neck. White fur was stained with streaks of crimson from his frantic thrashing.

He had always been the friendliest, gentlest dog. Now, he was trembling in the corner, his tail tucked between his legs, letting out tiny, muffled whimpers.

"Whimper..." Hearing my steps, Bailey looked up. His dark eyes were watery, and he tried to crawl toward me, only for the wire to choke the breath right out of his lungs.

Chloe sat on the leather sofa, gracefully pressing an ice pack against a faint red mark on the back of her hand.

Julian sat beside her, his features tight with dark fury.

"You finally decided to show up?" Julian looked up at me. "Look at what your damn pet did!"

I ignored him entirely. I walked straight to the stairs, dropped to my knees, and used my left hand to untangle the wire around Bailey’s throat.

The wire was knotted tight. With only one functioning hand, the sharp metal edges sliced directly into my left index finger.

"Summer, don't blame Julian for being angry," Chloe chimed in sweetly from behind. "I only tried to feed him a treat, but he snapped and lunged at me. I've been terrified of dogs since I was a child. It scared me to death."

I stopped picking at the wire and slowly turned my head, staring straight into her eyes.

Bailey was so gentle a toddler could take food from his mouth without him growling. The only way he would ever snap was if someone deliberately tormented him.

Besides, that faint scratch on Chloe’s hand looked suspiciously clean—like the gouge of an acrylic nail, not the scrape of a canine tooth.

"Where are the kitchen shears?" I asked Martha, the housekeeper standing frozen by the kitchen door. My voice was as flat as stagnant water.