Chapter 3

Moira raised her hand to slap Summer again, but Ian caught her wrist.

“Don't dirty your hands.”

Summer parted her lips, but no words came out.

From where she stood, she caught the brief flash of satisfaction on Moira's face.

She lowered her head and sighed.

Then, suddenly, she looked up and slapped herself.

Slap!

The sharp sound echoed through the hallway.

“Ian's right. Hitting me would only dirty your hands. That slap was for Ian. If it wasn't enough, I can give myself another. And another.”

“Enough! Just get out! Get the hell out!”

Ian stared at her swollen cheeks, a cold, unreadable expression flickering across his face.

Summer lowered her head, hiding the tears filling her eyes.

Only when she'd managed to hold them back did she look up again.

“Goodbye.”

She walked away, forcing herself to appear calm and leaving him with the impression that she didn't care.

She took the elevator down to the underground parking garage, got into her car, and shut the door.

Then she curled up in the driver's seat.

She opened the envelope Moira had given her and pulled out the photograph inside.

The moment she saw who was in it, her entire body began shaking.

She clenched the photograph in her fist, crumpling it into a ball. Her fingernails dug painfully into her palm.

But she didn't cry.

She bit down hard on her lip, overwhelmed by a hatred so intense she could barely contain it.

“Four years. It's been four years.”

She'd almost managed to forget that nightmare.

Why did Moira have to be so cruel?

Why did she have to tear open wounds that had only just begun to heal?

A choked sob escaped her throat.

Suddenly, her phone began vibrating.

Summer lifted her head from the steering wheel and took a deep breath.

She pulled her phone from her purse and answered with trembling fingers.

“Mom.”

“Summer, your stepfather wants to know when you're coming home. About tomorrow's engagement party, he...”

Summer bit down hard on her lip, struggling to keep her voice calm.

“Mom, tomorrow's engagement party is canceled. Ian didn't do anything wrong. It was me.”

“Summer?”

“I've been seeing another man, and Ian found out. Mom, I'm not coming back to the Morgan house for the next few days. Please take care of yourself. If Moira tries anything, don't keep it to yourself. You have to tell me, okay?”

“Summer!”

She could hear the urgency and concern in her mother's voice.

But Summer ended the call before her mother could say anything else.

She closed her eyes and told herself she had to stay strong.

Night fell.

Summer drove to a bar.

She didn't like places like this, but she had no choice.

The man who'd helped her stage the scene at the hotel earlier that day was demanding more money.

He refused to accept a bank transfer and insisted on being paid in cash, face-to-face.

Summer was afraid he'd tell Ian the truth, so she'd agreed to meet him.

Buzz!

Just as she was stepping through the bar's entrance, her phone vibrated.

It was a text from the man.

Private Room 608.

Summer frowned, then forced herself to push aside her unease.

She entered the bar and headed straight for the elevator.

On the sixth floor, Room 608 was at the far end of the hallway.

She walked toward it, but as she drew closer, her chest suddenly tightened.

She took a deep breath before reaching for the door.

But the moment she pushed it open a crack, her hand went slack.

She froze.

The man she'd come to meet wasn't inside.

Moira was.

She was dressed in a revealing outfit that showed off her figure, looking as seductive as ever.

But that wasn't what caught Summer's attention.

Moira was glancing warily toward one side of the room.

Something small was pinched between her fingers.

Summer watched as Moira dropped it into a glass of alcohol, gave the glass a quick swirl, then casually settled back into her seat.

A short while later, Ian came into view.

He looked like he'd had far too much to drink. His steps were unsteady, and his usually captivating eyes were half-closed with drunkenness.

A deep frown creased his forehead.

Those were the same eyes Summer had once loved more than anything.

Her grip tightened around the door handle.

She was about to turn away, forcing herself to ignore the ache rising in her chest, when Ian picked up the drink Moira had tampered with.

He tilted his head back and swallowed every last drop.

Summer felt a sharp pain in her chest.

No. He can't.

Moira watched him finish the drink, a charming smile spreading across her lips.

“Ian, you've had too much to drink. I'm just going to the restroom, and then I'll take you home.”

“Okay.”

Ian rubbed his aching forehead and leaned back against the couch.

His half-closed eyes grew heavier.

An unfamiliar weakness began spreading through his body.

His limbs felt increasingly sluggish, and his thoughts started slipping away.

Moira headed to the restroom.

Summer bit her lower lip so hard it turned white.

Her mind raced as she struggled with what to do.

But in the end, she couldn't bring herself to stand by and watch Moira take advantage of the man she'd loved so deeply.

She pushed open the door and hurried over to the couch.

Without saying a word, she slipped one of Ian's arms over her shoulders.

Struggling under his weight, she helped him to his feet. He could still move a little, and together they made their way toward the door, one difficult step at a time.