Clara Taylor stared blankly at her phone after hearing the beeping tone on the other end.
Victor Watson noticed her pale, stunned expression and immediately asked,"What did they say? When are they planning to send the money?"
Clara turned her head toward her husband, her lips trembling for a long time before she finally said,"Summer just turned eighteen last month. She has her own independent account now. The production team already transferred the compensation directly into her personal account this morning…"
Victor's face changed drastically."What! How could that happen? When did that brat secretly open a bank account behind our backs?"
When Summer debuted, she was only four years old, too young to have her own account. Every cent she earned went straight into Clara's bank account.
At fifteen, Summer once asked to open her own bank account, but both Clara and Victor had ruthlessly refused.
Sensing that Summer was getting older and harder to control, Victor had even taken away her ID card to prevent her from gaining financial independence. Without his permission, she couldn't access any identification documents.
But after Summer's disfigurement, the hospital required her ID for various procedures. Too lazy to handle it himself, Victor had placed the ID card in her bag.
So… could it be that Summer secretly went to the bank and opened an account while she was hospitalized?
The realization made Victor's scalp go numb.
"That damn girl must've started planning this from the day she sensed we wanted to sever ties with her!" he said furiously. "Opening her own account was the first step, waiting until we paid her penalty fees was the second — then she made us sign that severance letter! Every step was calculated!"
Each move she made was cautious, bold, and precise.
Victor suddenly felt a chill. He could no longer see through her. She used to be easy to manipulate, but ever since the accident, it was like she'd become a completely different person — calm, shrewd, and unreadable."When did she get so smart?" he muttered.
"Probably always was, just pretending to be stupid!" Clara spat. "That little wretch must've been planning to cut us off for a long time! She's not even our real daughter — a white-eyed wolf through and through! Serves her right she got disfigured!"
Clara was so furious her chest was burning.
Her anger wasn't baseless either.
Over the years, Summer had earned them a fortune — but they'd squandered almost all of it. To pay the latest breach penalty, they'd even sold one of their houses.
Now, aside from a few luxury cars and the villa they lived in, they were completely broke.
Everyone says it's easy to go from frugal to extravagant, but hard to go back. After years of living lavishly, their monthly expenses were huge. Without money, they couldn't maintain their lifestyle unless they started selling off assets.
The villa couldn't be sold — that was their home.The cars, once sold, wouldn't fetch much.As for Clara's designer handbags and jewelry, none were limited editions — at best, she could sell them second-hand for cheap.
Even if they sold everything, it would only keep them afloat for a short while. Worse still, they had a mortgage of fifty thousand a month — with twenty more years left to pay!
Thanks to Summer, they were being dragged straight back into the abyss.
Clara couldn't accept being outsmarted by her foster daughter. She gritted her teeth and said,"We have to go find that brat and get the money back!"
"How?" Victor glared at her. "Did you forget about the Minor Property Protection Law? According to national law, money earned legally by a minor cannot be used or transferred by parents without consent. Once they come of age, the assets belong solely to them."
"In other words, all those years we used Summer's income to buy cars and houses — that was illegal!"
Now that Summer was an adult and had officially severed ties with them, there was no way they could reclaim that money. In fact, if she pressed charges, they'd be forced to return every cent she'd earned over the past fourteen years — not the other way around!
They had no choice but to swallow the loss.
Clara had been controlling Summer for fourteen years, barking orders like a queen, and had long forgotten such laws even existed. Hearing her husband's words, she finally realized she had no legal way to get to Summer.
"So we just… take this loss?" she muttered bitterly.
Victor didn't reply — he had no solution either.
Clara tugged at the hem of her skirt, her eyes gleaming coldly."No. I must find a way to get that money back."
Summer stood at the hospital entrance, holding a parasol, gazing at the bustling crowd along the street. A light, contented smile curved her lips.
Finally, she had helped the original Summer break free from her parasitic foster parents. She felt lighter than ever.
That couple had fed off her like leeches, living off her pain — cutting them off was liberation.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
She opened it to see a message from Linda Shaw:
"Your mom called the production office demanding payment. What's going on? Didn't we already transfer the money to your account?"
Thinking of the look on Victor and Clara's faces when they discovered the truth, Summer couldn't help but smirk. She replied:
"That's no longer my mom. We've cut all ties."
After sending the message, she pocketed her phone, unconcerned if Linda spread the news.
From her jacket, she pulled out a small, coin-sized card and examined it curiously. This world's bank card was smooth and round, with a faintly embossed rose pattern. Inside it — her fifteen million.
Summer slipped the card away and began to walk off, but suddenly froze, a trace of confusion flickering across her face.
Where should she go?
To Summer, this was a foreign world. And for the original girl — she had always been an orphan. Without the Watsons, she had no home left.
The world was vast, yet she had nowhere to belong.
She raised her hand to hail a taxi, but as she did, her gaze caught on a figure across the street — a man leaning on a crutch.
His left pant leg hung empty, swaying gently in the breeze.
Summer's eyes narrowed slightly.
That man…
She searched the distant memories of the original Summer and found a familiar image — a limping man.
Her real father.
Harold Watson.
Summer lowered her hand and studied him quietly.
The man's thin frame was wrapped in a faded, ill-fitting gray shirt. He wore a straw hat, unshaven stubble shadowed his chin, and his entire being exuded exhaustion and despair.
At that moment, Summer could feel the original girl's heart ache.
Because, deep down — this crippled man was the only one who had ever truly loved her.