Chapter 5

Summer Lynn POV

Cherry froze in place.

After all, my reaction carried an uncomfortable sense of dismissal.

Cherry bit her lip unwillingly.

Her gaze shifted and landed on the old paint box I was holding.

"Summer, what are you packing up?"

Cherry walked forward, pretending to be curious as she reached out to touch the box.

"Don't touch it." My voice turned slightly cold. I instinctively stepped back.

This was the last memento my mother left me before she died.

It was also what I planned to take to the island. My hope for starting a new life.

Cherry didn't pull her hand back. Instead, she twisted her wrist hard, using my own backward movement as cover.

Crash!

A dull, heavy sound.

The heavy wooden box slipped from my hands and fell hard onto the marble floor.

The wooden box shattered instantly.

The paint tubes I'd treasured for years broke into pieces, paint splashing out everywhere, staining the expensive carpet and splattering onto my clean pant legs.

I stood frozen, staring at the broken wooden box, my brain blank for a moment.

"Oh no!"

But Cherry cried out first. She quickly stepped back two paces, her eyes instantly reddening like a startled deer.

At the same moment, the second-floor study door was pushed open forcefully.

Hearing the commotion, Ethan quickly came downstairs.

"What happened?" He glanced at the paint all over the floor, his brow knitting tightly.

Cherry immediately grabbed Ethan's sleeve with red eyes, her voice choking with tears. "Ethan, I just wanted to help Summer with something... Summer might still be mad at me. She threw the box down and almost hit my foot..."

Ethan's gaze followed Cherry's pointing finger and landed on me.

He looked at the mess on the floor, then at my face.

"Summer, what exactly are you trying to do?"

Ethan's tone was ice-cold, with undisguised disgust. "They're just some paint tubes. Do you really need to make such a scene?"

These paints were my mother's favorites when she was alive.

Five years ago, to take care of Ethan who had a stomach hemorrhage from inhaling smoke, I gave up my own art exhibition.

Now, the items I treasured most from my mother had been smashed to pieces by Cherry's own hands, yet he directly pinned all the blame on me.

I slowly raised my head and looked at Ethan.

"You think this is just some paint?" My voice was very light, but carried a kind of deathly stillness that made people's hearts skip.

"What else?" Ethan looked at me coldly, pulling out a checkbook from his suit pocket. "How much money do you need? A hundred thousand or two hundred thousand? I'll write you a check."

I looked at him for a few seconds.

Looking at this man whose life I'd saved with my own, even at the cost of my left ear's hearing.

I suddenly found it absurd.

I nodded.

I didn't reach for that check.

I turned around and looked at the servant standing timidly to the side.

"Sweep all this garbage into the trash."

Ethan's hand holding the check froze in midair.

"Summer..." Ethan frowned. He seemed like he wanted to say something to make me stay.

I had already turned and gone upstairs.

In this house, there was nothing left worth looking at even once more.

Back in the bedroom, I closed the door and leaned weakly against it.

I closed my eyes and bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted a hint of sweet, bloody iron, finally forcing down the sourness in my throat that nearly tore me apart.

I took out my phone and opened the calendar.

Only seven days left until my flight departed.

After heavily crossing off today's date, I took a deep breath.

Very soon, I could be completely free.