Chapter 13
Grace froze at the ice in Wilder’s voice. She clutched the fabric of her dress tightly, her knuckles
white.
Footsteps slowly approached.
Wilder’s hand came down lightly on her cheek.
Smack!
Grace cried out in pain as her face was snapped to the side, blood trickling from the corner of her
mouth.
Wilder yanked her hair by the roots, rage burning behind his eyes–he could still see the brutal
image of Summer being tortured over and over.
The pain in his chest was so sharp it felt like even breathing tore him apart.
“You actually dared… to hire people to hurt Summer?”
Smack!
Another slap landed. Grace was dazed.
Suddenly, a figure burst in from the hallway, swinging a broom hard across Wilder’s back.
“You bastard! Who gave you the right to hit my daughter?! I’ll kill you! I’ll beat you to death!”
It was Grace’s mother. She was shrieking like a madwoman.
Wilder shoved her aside. Her head slammed into the wall, and she collapsed instantly, eyes rolling
back into unconsciousness.
But Grace didn’t even look at her.
She stared at Wilder, backing away in fear.
“Wilder, what are you talking about? When did I ever hurt Summer? Is that what she told you? You know she’s jealous–she must’ve lied to turn you against me! She just wants to ruin me!”
Her tears fell in perfect pearls, her voice trembling as she tried to play the victim.
“Wilder, you’re the father of my child. You have to believe me!”
But Wilder lifted his leg and kicked her squarely in the belly.
A scream of agony echoed through the villa.
Chapter 13
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When Ben arrived, Wilder’s hands were already stained with blood.
Grace lay twitching on the ground, blood pooling beneath her.
There was no saving the child.
Wilder stood over her, chest heaving, and peeled off the customized grip glove still on his hand. His
steps were unsteady as he approached Ben, despair flooding his eyes like death itself.
“Take her to the hospital. Don’t let her die so easily,” he rasped, his voice burned hoarse by fury
and regret.
The moment he stepped out the front door, his phone rang.
It was Shaw.
“Wilder, we’ve searched everywhere. We swept every meter around the prison… and still no sign
of Summer.”
Wilder stood frozen. His tongue felt numb, his throat tight, as if the words refused to form.
On the other end of the line, Shaw waited in silence–until Wilder finally spoke.
“Keep looking… Shaw, I’m begging you. Find her. Please.”
Shaw froze.
Wilder was begging?
His heart clenched. He sniffed hard, holding back tears.
“Don’t worry, Wilder. Summer loves you too much to really leave. She probably just needs some space. Get some rest–she’ll be back by morning-”
“No…” Wilder’s voice trembled. “It’s different this time.”
He felt it in his bones.
He knew Summer better than anyone–better than he knew himself.
And he knew… this time, she was really gone.
He hung up, got in his car, and began the desperate search.
He drove to every place she might have gone.
He thought back to their first days in Italy–how broke they had been, sleeping on benches in public
parks.
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He remembered that tiny bench, the way they held each other tight for warmth, her eyes full of unwavering faith in him.
He had once asked her, “Do you regret following me here? Suffering with me like this?”
She had looked him in the eyes and answered with such sincerity that it became the one thing that
pushed him forward, even in the darkest days.
But now… he couldn’t even remember what she had said.
He had thrown it all away after gaining everything.
He searched. And searched. And every time, hope dissolved into nothing.
He never thought there’d come a day when Summer could truly let him go.
The car sped faster and faster–like if he could just drive fast enough, he could still catch her before
she disappeared for good.
Until the screech of a horn ripped through the air.
By the time Wilder looked up, it was too late.
The crash hit head–on.
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