Tristan, seeing Summer react, frowned in confusion. Is she a doctor? he wondered, shaking off the notion as she had previously told him she was a business major. Still, no other customers rushed to help except the bar's own medical staff. That struck him as odd. His mind began racing. Could Sam be—no, it couldn't be. She's too...nice not cocky. But then again... His suspicions started to build.
Summer, nearing the choking man, suddenly stopped in her tracks. Her sharp instincts kicked in as she realized something wasn't right. It all clicked in her mind—this was a setup. Too many people were suddenly having "emergencies," and the medical help was perfectly timed to be overwhelmed. This has to be Tristan's doing, she thought, narrowing her eyes, piecing the puzzle together.
She decided to play along. "Call a doctor! Call an ambulance! This man needs help!" she cried out, feigning panic to the onlookers. Her frantic shouts made Tristan doubt his own suspicions once again. No, he told himself, shaking his head, she's just a kind-hearted person trying to help.
Tristan's guilt gnawed at him as he saw her trying so hard to help a stranger in need. He cursed himself for putting her through such a situation, feeling an odd pang of remorse. What have I done? His entire plan, designed to expose Dr. Lifeath, was now making him feel like a monster for worrying Summer.
And then, his heart lurched as he saw her pull out her phone. Is she calling 911? But before he could think any further, he watched in horror as Summer suddenly dropped her phone, her face going white as if the very life had been drained from her. She collapsed to her knees, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Panic shot through him. Forgetting everything—Dr. Lifeath, his schemes, even the meeting. Tristan bolted toward her, his heart pounding with worry. "Sam!" he shouted, rushing through the crowd, oblivious to the chaos around him. All that mattered in that moment was reaching her.
But Summer was completely unaware of her surroundings, her body trembling, her face etched with shock and disbelief. Something had shattered her, something far beyond what Tristan had ever seen. Tristan's heart pounded as he rushed towards Summer, who sat slumped on the ground, completely still. And as he knelt beside her, all he could think was, What happened?
His face was etched with worry, and his voice trembled with concern as he shook her gently.
"Sam! Sam! What happened? Talk to me!" His voice grew more frantic when she didn't respond.
Summer's chest tightened, each breath more painful than the last. She tried to speak but couldn't, as though an invisible force was suffocating her. Her hand fumbled for her phone, her fingers trembling uncontrollably. She tried to stand, but her legs felt like they weren't her own—numb, heavy, paralyzed. Panic spread through her veins.
Tristan's heart ached seeing her so vulnerable, so utterly helpless. The usual spark in her eyes was gone, replaced by fear and pain. Without hesitation, he crouched down and wrapped his arms around her gently, helping her to her feet. His voice softened, trying to comfort her.
"Sam...what happened? Tell me, I'm here. Just tell me what you need," he pleaded.
Summer looked up at him, her eyes glassy, brimming with tears she was too proud to let fall. Her voice came out broken, barely above a whisper, "Take me out of here…"
Tristan didn't hesitate. He carefully held her close, guiding her out of the club. He moved swiftly, pushing through the crowd, his heart racing in sync with her shallow breaths. Outside the Schmooze Club, the night air was cool, but it did nothing to ease the tension in his chest. As soon as they were away from the noise and the people, Summer pulled away slightly, her voice barely audible.
"Thank you," she said softly, her voice lifeless, defeated. "I need to be alone…"
Tristan wanted to protest, to tell her he couldn't leave her like this, but the look in her eyes stopped him. They were hollow, as if the life had been drained from them. Reluctantly, he let her go, though his every instinct screamed to stay.
She got into her car and sped off into the night, unaware that Tristan was following her, keeping his distance, his eyes never leaving her taillights. He couldn't leave her alone—not like this. Something was terribly wrong, and his gut told him she was on the edge of something dangerous.
Inside her car, Summer's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. Her heart was pounding, her mind racing as she fumbled with her phone, dialing a familiar number. Her voice, strained and barely holding on, was a plea.
"Are you sure, Wayne?" Her voice cracked with a hint of hope.
Wayne's voice on the other end was gentle, sorrowful. "Yes… I'm sure." He wanted to say something, anything, to comfort her, but Summer hung up before he could.
Her fingers hovered over the keypad again, this time dialing a number she dreaded. It rang twice before a sharp, contemptuous voice answered.
"What do you want? Why are you calling me at this time?" Pamela Carter's voice dripped with venom. "Don't waste my time!"
Summer's voice was trembling, her heart racing as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. "It was you, wasn't it?" she asked, her voice fragile, yet accusatory.
Pamela scoffed, clearly irritated. "What are you talking about now? Have you found some new way to annoy me?"
Summer's voice cracked, filled with hurt and disbelief. "You set me up at the gala. You drugged me…to get me raped, didn't you?"
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Summer's knuckles turned white as she clutched the phone. And then, after a few heartbeats, Pamela's cruel laughter echoed through the speaker.
"Raped? Ha! You disgrace. You must have already slept with so many men to get where you are. And now you're playing the victim? Pathetic," Pamela sneered. "What difference does it make if I drugged you? You didn't even let it happen. I did nothing wrong! You took my son's birthright, you stole what belonged to him. So, don't complain about a little incident at some gala."
Summer's tears spilled over as she listened to her mother's heartless words, but her voice turned cold. "Pamela Carter…one more word, and I'll forget you're my mother."
Pamela's voice exploded with fury. "How dare you threaten me? You ingrate! I should have never given birth to you! Why don't you just—"
Summer hung up, cutting off her mother's vicious tirade, but her heart was heavy with bitterness and pain. She couldn't understand how a mother could be so cruel, so devoid of remorse for something so heinous. She smiled coldly, "what a great mother! "
Enraged and numb, Summer slammed her foot on the gas, speeding down the empty road. Her mind was racing, her chest tightening with anger and sorrow. She didn't even notice when she approached the remote beachside. She couldn't stop…she didn't want to. As if driving straight into the sea would wash away all the hurt, all the betrayal.
Behind her, Tristan's eyes widened in alarm as he saw her speeding towards the water. Panic surged through him, and he knew he had to act fast, "What is going on with her? Is she trying to kill herself?"