Chapter 5
Wilder stared at her in disbelief.
“Handle it? You think you can handle it on your own?” His voice rose with anger.
“Like this? Summer, can you stop being so damn stubborn for once? I’m your husband. Why don’t you ever tell me anything before you act? You really want me to stand by and watch you get hurt?!”
He stormed forward, but as he reached her, his hands became gentle.
Frowning, he asked through gritted teeth, “Does it hurt?”
Summer lowered her gaze slowly.
What pain could possibly compare to heartbreak?
Her husband?
How could Wilder ever be considered her husband?
During her recovery in the hospital, he’d practically moved in–running errands, taking care of her
every need.
But then one night, a woman dressed like a nurse quietly pushed open the door and sat herself on
top of Wilder’s sleeping body.
He jolted awake, startled, and when he saw Grace Caldwell on his lap, his expression changed
instantly.
He dragged her into the adjoining suite and shut the door–his eyes glancing toward the bed where
Summer lay, seemingly asleep.
“Who told you to come here?” he hissed, barely containing his anger.
But Grace wasn’t afraid. Her hands slid under the covers, touching him boldly.
“Baby, your son misses his daddy. He wants you to touch him… and his mommy, too.”
Her voice was syrupy–sweet, every syllable oozing seduction.
Wilder’s eyes darkened. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
Blood rushed to his head until he couldn’t control himself
anymore.
“Grace, you filthy whore.”
His low growl filled the room–along with her soft, teasing moans, loud and deliberate.
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Sweat beaded on Wilder’s forehead. He clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Shut up.”
But she wouldn’t. She wanted Summer to hear. That was the point.
Summer had woken up the moment Grace stepped into the room.
She lay still, her body trembling violently, heart clutched in an invisible fist. Even her fingers couldn’t stop shaking.
How could he?
How could Wilder humiliate her like this?
After it was over, he walked out quietly, pretending not to wake her.
He gently pulled the blanket over her and reached out with the same hand that had just touched
Grace.
Summer rolled over just in time, pretending to shift in her sleep.
Wilder withdrew, awkward and frustrated.
Only when he left the room did Summer open her eyes again.
Her phone buzzed beside her.
[The wedding dress has been shipped. One week from now–be ready to leave.]
She didn’t reply. Just clutched her phone and shut her eyes tight.
Tears streamed silently down her cheeks.
One more week.
Just seven more days, and she’d be free of this twelve–year nightmare.
She would never see Wilder again–not in this life.
The next morning, the dining table was filled with all her favorite dishes.
But Wilder was gone.
As if he knew exactly when she’d wake up.
A message popped up on her phone.
“Babe, something urgent came up with the organization. I’ll be home late. Love you!”
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Summer sneered and deleted the entire conversation thread.
Had he forgotten?
She was part of the organization too.
He used to report every move to her.
But for the past two years, all he’d brought her were lies.
She discharged herself and took a cab home.
Once there, she began packing–methodically, emotionlessly.
Everything that belonged to her went into boxes.
Everything related to Wilder was left behind.
Her phone rang again.
It was Grace’s mentally unstable mother.
Grace had left her behind in Italy, offloading all the responsibility onto Summer while she played
house and carried Wilder’s baby.
The woman’s condition had always been unstable–fluctuating between calm and chaos.
For the past two years, Summer had endured every bit of her abuse.
Because Grace had nearly died saving Wilder, Summer had swallowed her complaints, her pain, her
dignity.
But now?
While she’d been suffering in silence, those two had been living a life of luxury–creating a new
one, even.
Summer’s expression turned to stone as she answered the call.
The speaker shrieked into the phone. It was the old woman, furious and unhinged.
“Summer Reeves, you filthy little tramp! Did you forget I have a doctor’s appointment today? You
want me dead, don’t you? Just so you can be rid of me and your damn guilt!”
“Spit on you! I won’t die that easily, you hear me?!”
The stream of vile curses continued.
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But Summer’s voice remained calm.
She didn’t hang up.
Instead, she agreed to take her to the appointment.
