Chapter 3

Summer POV

That afternoon, a private viewing was held at the luxury mall, and many familiar faces were in attendance.

I frequented events like this.

I never asked for prices when something caught my eye; if I liked it, I bought it, and if I didn't, I simply told them to put it away. The boutique staff all knew my taste was impeccable.

I paused in front of a display case, my eyes landing on a pendant that would pair perfectly with the dresses I usually wore.

"You have such an exquisite eye," the sales associate murmured, stepping up. "This piece just arrived today."

I raised a hand to signal for them to wrap it up, but before I could finish the gesture, another hand darted out and snatched the pendant away.

It was Phoebe.

"This," Phoebe clutched the pendant, looking up at me with a sweet smile, "is what Raymond promised to buy for me."

I drew my hand back and said nothing.

There were plenty of things I wanted; there was no need to bicker over a single necklace.

Right then, Raymond arrived.

Phoebe instantly stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his and holding up the pendant for him to see.

"Raymond, look! I picked this one."

Raymond gave it a cursory glance. Right in front of the entire crowd, he took the pendant from her fingers and pressed it firmly back into her palm.

"If you like it, it's yours," he said. "Pick out a few more pieces later. I'll take care of the bill."

"Really?" Phoebe gazed up at him.

"Really," Raymond patted her hand. "Something someone else couldn't appreciate is lucky to be chosen by you."

Those words were meant for the audience, and they were meant for me.

"That lady browsed forever and didn't even buy anything."

"Mr. Miller doesn't even look at her."

"Raymond climbed to the top using the Vance family's dime, and now he actually thinks he's hot stuff."

"Shh, keep it down, she'll hear you."

"So what if she hears? Am I lying?"

I stood rooted to the spot, my face entirely blank.

One part of their whispers was true: he had spent the Vance family's money to get where he was.

I had never seen a problem with that before. Once my money was given to him, I considered it his.

Today, I finally understood the second half of that reality: the man spending my money stood in the center of the room, publicly gifting the piece I had chosen to someone else, promising to buy her even more.

I didn't even have the energy to fight back.

I signaled a sales associate, pointed toward two other pieces I had briefly glanced at earlier, and told them to wrap them up.

The clerk quoted a figure. Without batting an eye, I handed over my card.

Once the items were bagged, I turned and handed them to a socialite acquaintance standing nearby, telling her to take them for fun. Before she could politely decline, I was already heading toward the exit.

Just then, a commotion broke out at the other end of the floor.

Whether over a disputed auction item or an old grudge, two groups of people collided violently. In the shoving match, a display pedestal was knocked over, shattering jewelry and glass everywhere.

The crowd erupted into an instant panic, scattering in every direction.

Someone shoved me hard from behind. I fell forward onto the hard marble, my knee slamming brutally against the sharp edge of the stairs. An unbearable jolt of agony shot straight up my leg.

People trampled past me. Unable to stand, I could only curl inward and shield my head.

Through the chaos, I heard Phoebe scream.

I looked up just in time to see Phoebe stumbling toward Raymond with open arms, crying out that she was terrified.

Raymond opened his arms and caught her, one hand shielding her head as he shoved her into an adjacent street-facing boutique. He slammed the glass door shut behind her, cutting her off from the stampeding mob outside.

The entire sequence of movements was swift and decisive.

Then, he walked right past me.

I was lying on the steps barely two paces away, my knee trembling in agony. He walked right by without even glancing down.

I used to believe in something foolish.

I thought that even if his heart was cold, I was the one who paid for his mother's life-saving surgery, so when push came to shove, he would at least offer me a hand first.

Today, I learned the truth: I came after Phoebe.

I lay collapsed alone on the crowded steps, and not a single hand reached out to help me.

Gripping the railing, I dragged myself up inch by inch.

Dust stained my dress. My knee throbbed, hot and swollen, sending needle-sharp pain with every slight twitch.

I tried to take a step, but my leg gave out, forcing me to lean heavily against the brass handrail again.

A sales associate tried to hurry over to support me, but I waved them off.

"Should I call an ambulance for you, ma'am?" the employee asked softly.

"No need," I said. "Just help me call a cab, please."

Gritting my teeth, I hobbled step by step out to the curb. The cold wind bit into my skin, making me realize my palms were soaked in a cold sweat.

I didn't know how long I stood there before the boutique door behind me opened.

Having settled Phoebe, Raymond brushed a stray hair from her forehead, muttered a few instructions to the store staff, and finally came out to look for me.

Our gazes collided at the entrance of the mall.

He parted his lips, his eyes darting around our surroundings.

"Summer," he called out. "How's your leg? I'll drive you back."

"No need," I said.

"Summer," he took a step toward me. "How long are you going to keep making a scene?"

I waved my hand dismissively, leaning on the rail as I made my way down the steps.

"I told you, there were too many people—"

"I said, I don't need your ride."

I turned back to look at him.

The wind blew strands of hair across my face, but I didn't even bother to tuck them back.

In the past, every time I used my money to solve a crisis for him, a sliver of hope would bloom in my chest, hoping he might treat me a little better down the road.

He was never going to remember the good I did for him.

I looked at him for two seconds, turned around, and limped toward the curb to wait for the cab the clerk had called for me.