Chapter 12

Grace sat in silence for a moment, collecting herself, before she finally spoke. “I’ll help you. But first, there’s something you need to hear.” She took out her phone and played a recording—the voices of Isabella and Margaret plotting filled the room. Summer listened, a cold smirk tugging at her lips, her eyes sharp with disdain. Those fools never learn. “Guess I owe you one,”Summer said, her tone almost playful. “Then pay me back now, Miss Knight. This silver needle—it’s yours, isn’t it?” Grace held out the needle. Summer took it without hesitation. It gleamed coldly between her fingers—sharp, precise, dangerous. “My mother left it to me,”she said honestly. Grace knew medicine well enough to recognize that Summer’s skills weren’t amateur—clearly inherited from Claire Ford, once known as City Q’s top healer. “You know why I brought it up?”Grace reached into her sleeve and pulled out an identical silver needle.“Look. My master told me if I ever found one like this, I had to tell him immediately.” Summer’s brows lifted slightly. The same needle? That meant her mother must have known Grace’s master. “He’s a famous healer in City A. People call him Mr. Jenkins,”Grace explained, then added,“That’s all I can say. Now—it’s your turn to keep your word.” Summer nodded.“About that incident… try looking into the woman your husband can’t forget. You might find something.” With that, Grace left—so quietly no one even noticed she’d been there. In her past life, Summer hadn’t known Grace well, but she knew enough. Grace’s husband, William Frost, was one of City Q’s elite and a close friend of Alexander Barron. Just last month, at Isabella’s birthday party, Grace had been drugged and ended up in bed with William. The scandal forced them to marry. But William’s heart belonged to someone else, and he resented Grace for it. Only Summer knew the truth—the one who spiked the drink wasn’t Grace. It was Isabella, working behind the scenes. In a way, that made Grace and Summer allies against a common enemy. Not long after, Summer finished packing. Truth was, she didn’t have much—just a few sets of clothes. That was all she owned after years under the Knights’ roof. She didn’t go downstairs. Instead, she sat calmly in her room, waiting for Isabella to show up. Soon enough, a knock came. Isabella stepped inside holding a steaming bowl of soup, a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face. “Hey, sis! I made you some chicken soup. It’s cold out—warm yourself up before you go.” Summer didn’t even blink.Isabella—Miss I-Don’t-Do-Chores—cooking for her?Hilarious. That soup was definitely spiked. “Wow! Summer loves chicken soup! It makes her pretty so big brother will like her more! Thanks, sis!”Summer giggled. She was practically vibrating with exaggerated excitement, flapping her hands like some over-the-top cartoon character—ridiculous, really. Isabella smirked inwardly.What an idiot. Let her enjoy it while she can. Soon, she’ll regret ever being born. Summer took the bowl, slipping a silver needle into the soup while Isabella wasn’t looking. The moment the needle touched the liquid, the color began to fade—definitely drugged. Without missing a beat, Summer pulled the needle back and started gulping the soup like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. That finally made Isabella crack a smug smile. She began counting silently. The moment Summer passed out, she’d drag her to the back gate. Margaret had already arranged for someone to take her straight to that hellhole pleasure house in the capital. But twenty seconds passed, and Summer was still perfectly fine. Just as Isabella began to wonder if she’d been sold fake drugs, Summer suddenly spat out the soup with a dramatic grimace. “Eww! Sis, this tastes gross. I’m done,”she whined, scrunching up her face. “You moron! Are you messing with me?”Isabella snapped, storming over in a rage. She raised her hand, ready to slap Summer across the face. But before the hit could land, Summer caught her wrist in a vice-like grip. “Yeah. I am messing with you,”Summer said, her voice icy and sharp as glass. Her stare was even colder. Isabella’s face froze, panic flashing in her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. That mocking calm… that wasn’t the Summer she knew. Before Isabella could react, a sharp pain exploded at the back of her head—and everything went black. Once Summer was sure Isabella was completely unconscious, she nudged her limp body with her foot.Yep. Out cold. She found a large sack, stuffed Isabella inside, and slipped toward the back gate without alerting a single servant. Meanwhile, Margaret was pacing nervously near the rear entrance, wound tight with anxiety. “Mrs. Blake, the boat leaves in thirty minutes,”the trafficker reminded her, impatience clear in his voice.“If we don’t move now, we’re done.” “I know, I know! I’ll go hurry them,”Margaret muttered, turning to head upstairs and check on the delay. Suddenly— A heavy thud sounded nearby. Margaret nearly jumped out of her skin, convinced they’d been caught. But when she looked, she saw a sack lying a few meters away, a human shape faintly visible inside. She grinned in relief and hurried over.Had to be Summer. She assumed Isabella must’ve had a reason for stuffing her in a sack, but whatever—the job was done. What Margaret didn’t see was the slim figure standing silently around the corner, watching everything with cold, gleaming eyes. Summer observed, a smirk of cold mockery on her lips. Earlier, she’d used the needle to knock Isabella out—but not deeply. She wanted her to wake up. She wanted her to see with her own eyes that it was her own mother handing her over to traffickers, sending her straight to hell. Isabella wanted her tortured to death? Let’s see who ends up begging in the end. Later, Summer planned to have Grace leak photos of her and Alexander looking intimate on the island—just to stir the pot even more. By then, Isabella would already be missing. It wouldn’t be long before Margaret realized the girl she’d just handed over… was her own daughter. That kind of pain would shatter her. After this? Next targets: Charles Knight and James Carter. She would make every single person who’d hurt her in her past life pay—without exception.