Chapter 3

The next morning. Just as the first hint of dawn tinged the sky, Alexander Barron’s eyes snapped open—cold and sharply alert. His gaze swept briefly across the room before landing on the woman sleeping peacefully beside him. Only then did the ice in his expression thaw slightly. He always woke at six, sharp. But today, he’d overslept by almost half an hour. Then again, he’d finally gotten the one woman he’d been obsessed with for years. But looking down at Summer Knight—her skin marked with bruises he’d left behind—a heavy wave of guilt crashed over him. He knew perfectly well what he’d done. He’d taken her while she was scared, crying, pushing him away. He remembered it all, and it clawed at him. Still, he hadn’t seen any other way to make her stay—to keep her with him, and safe. Even though someone had drugged him to the edge of madness, in the end… it had played right into his hands. Now he had to return and confront his family. He’d demand they change the bride. After all, the only one he ever wanted was Summer. He leaned in, gently smoothing the faint crease between her brows. His lips hovered near her ear, voice low but firm. “Nina, I’ll make this right for you.” With that, Alexander slipped silently from the bed and began to dress. His men had handled everything the night before—the entire Knight household had been drugged into unconsciousness long before he ever arrived. So now, he could leave without looking back. — Summer didn’t wake until the sun was high. Her whole body ached as if she’d been hit by a truck. Still half-asleep, she reached out instinctively toward the other side of the bed—just like she used to in her past life. It was empty. Cold. Alexander was gone. She didn’t know if he even realized what he’d done to her last night. But the fact that he’d left without a word said it all. Clearly, in this life, Alexander Barron felt nothing for her. A dull, heavy pain tightened in her chest. Summer pressed a hand there, breathing slowly, and sat up. Then, shaky but resolved, she rose and walked to the wardrobe. She lifted her glistening eyes, took one look inside, and instantly frowned. Every piece was some shade of shocking red or electric purple—the kind of tacky that burned the eyes. Just thinking about how she used to cake her face white, slap on clownish blush, and parade around in these ridiculous dresses made Summer’s skin crawl. No wonder all of City Q knew the Knight family’s second daughter—and forgot the first even existed. People used to say she took after her mother—Claire Ford, once hailed as City Q’s top surgical genius. They called them a pair:one lunatic, one fool. But no one knew better than Summer why her mother really lost her mind… or how she truly died. Now that she’d been given a second chance, she wouldn’t just chase love or revenge—this time, she’d clear her name and her mother’s. Summer finally dug out the least offensive thing from that rainbow disaster, changed, and headed downstairs. In the dining room, Charles Knight, Isabella, and Margaret Blake were already seated, playing happy family—what a pathetic joke. They used to act like she didn’t exist. But now, since Isabella still needed her to take her place and marry Alexander, things were different. The moment they saw her, Isabella flashed an exaggerated smile and chirped,“Sis! Come sit! Hurry!” “If Summer eats her egg today, she’ll grow even prettier!” A cold glint flashed through Summer’s eyes, though her face stayed blank and naive. She skipped over like a careless child, plopped down, and began shoveling food into her mouth with her hands—exactly the way Margaret and Isabella had taught her to eat—so Charles would see her as disgusting and all of high society would want nothing to do with her. Sure enough, not two seconds later, Charles Knight’s face already twisting in disgust, ready to scream at her like always. But before he could get a word out, Summer suddenly looked up, grinned vacantly, and giggled: “Daddy, remember when you asked about Mom’s treasure? I just remembered where it is!” “Where?!”he blurted out. Instantly, not just Charles—but Isabella and Margaret too—snapped to attention, eyes wide, hanging on her every word.