"Sammy, hold on tight and…wait for my email. I'll fix this," she said curtly before hanging up. The phone call had given her a fresh dose of irritation, and her mind was already plotting countermeasures.
She rolled out of bed, stretching before swiftly dialing another number.
Wayne picked up on the third ring, his groggy voice dripping with annoyance. "What is it? Can't you see I'm busy in dreamland? I was finally going to win an award in my sleep."
Summer smirked, "Three seconds, Wayne. Wake up, or I'll beat you to a pulp. One... two…"
"Okay, okay! I'm up! What's so urgent that you're dragging me out of my dream to be tortured in real life?" Wayne grumbled, clearly still half-asleep.
"I need you to draw up a contract between Spring Synergies and white corps. I want Carter Inc. to mediate the deal for their new biomedical research," Summer instructed nonchalantly.
There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by Wayne's shocked voice. "Wait, hold on a second. Carter Inc.? Are you seriously involving them? You've always kept a clear line between the two. What gives?"
Summer's tone was flat, but her words hinted at a storm of determination. "We're grabbing this project from white corps. It's necessary."
"But why now? Carter Inc. can land any project they want. Why do they need to mediate for Spring Synergies?"
Summer's voice took on a frustrated edge. "It's not about just any project, Wayne. It's about defeating an enemy. A very annoying one." She paused, then added in a biting tone, "A certain Trash-tin."
Wayne's sleepy confusion dissolved into laughter. "Ah, Tristan Stark strikes again! Seems like Mr. Hotshot CEO is giving you a hard time, huh? So now, you're calling in backup from Dr. Lifeath?"
Summer smirked. "Why not? Can't a woman call in favors from her own self? Now, stop asking questions and get to work, or I'll personally send you to Krune City."
At the mention of Krune City, Wayne's playful tone vanished, replaced by dread. "No, no, no! I'll get on it right now. No need for Krune City, I'm not ready for that kind of nightmare." He hurriedly ended the call before Summer could torment him any further.
True to his word, fifteen minutes later, the contract pinged in Summer's inbox. She skimmed it, nodding in approval. "Not too lousy," she typed back to Wayne, sending the document to Sammy.
On the other side of the world, Wayne read the reply and groaned. "Born to torture me with work...and words," he muttered under his breath.
Satisfied with the contract, Summer forwarded it to Sammy, instructing her to proceed with the white corps project. Relaxed and in a much better mood, Summer stretched, pleased with her swift maneuvering. Within an hour, she had not only caught up but was back in the game. With everything in order, she stood, ready to start her day, feeling victorious already.
Just as she finished dressing, there was a knock on the door. She opened it to find Tristan standing there, a wide, child-like grin plastered across his face, his eyes gleaming with excitement. His enthusiasm was so infectious that Summer couldn't help but smile back.
"Good morning!" Summer greeted, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Did you win a million-dollar lottery or something? You're practically glowing."
Tristan beamed even more, a laugh escaping him. "Yeah, I did! You're my lottery!"
Summer blinked, her cheeks warming. But Tristan, realizing what he had just said, coughed and quickly corrected himself. "I mean… uh, I came here to remind you about tonight's event. You know, the gathering? And I'm going as a plus-one with my favorite Alma Bendita!"
Summer chuckled, watching the excitement practically pour out of him. "Look at you! It's not even noon, and you're already hyped about this. If you could, you'd probably be there right now."
Tristan's eyes sparkled, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! You have no idea how excited I am. I've been to these things before, but usually, I just show up for appearances, and they're pretty boring. But this—this is different. It's my first time going as a fan. I wish I could fast-forward time!"
Summer couldn't help but find his antics both adorable and hilarious. There was something incredibly endearing about seeing Tristan—who was usually so composed and business-like—acting like a giddy fanboy. She teased him, "Don't get too excited, my number-one fan. You'll probably find it just as boring as the others—except for the food, of course."
Tristan grinned, not backing down. "Well, the food is definitely a bonus, but believe me, I'm not going to be bored this time. Not when I'm there with you."
Summer felt her heart flutter at the sincerity in his voice, but she quickly masked it with a playful tone. "Alright, alright. But before you go dreaming about the event, let's grab some breakfast. I'm starving."
Without hesitation, Tristan surprised her by taking her hand and leading her toward the hotel restaurant. His touch was warm and confident, making her pulse quicken slightly, but she brushed it off with a smile, not wanting to overthink the simple gesture.
As Summer slipped into her royal blue gown, the smooth silk fabric cascaded elegantly down her frame, hugging her body perfectly. The backless design with a thigh slit on the right leg exposed her soft, porcelain skin, with delicate strings tied at her shoulders. Her fair back and graceful neck glistened under the soft light. The gown, simple yet exquisite, made her look both sophisticated and alluring. With light makeup enhancing her natural beauty, she didn't need much to stand out. A delicate glow radiated from her, her look completed by a matching sling that covered her injured arm—an unusual accessory, but she somehow managed to make it chic.
As Summer struggled to put on her heels with just one hand, she sighed, regretting sending back the makeup team who had hovered over her for an hour. It wasn't like her to fuss over appearance. For her, fashion was simple: pick a dress, apply some makeup, and get on with the event. But this time, her gunshot injury made everything far more exhausting.
Annoyed she shouted "Ughh! What the hell is happening?"