Chapter 1

My wrist was still bleeding, and Ethan Mercer stood over me, his eyes full of disgust.

"Are you done throwing your little tantrum? Slitting your wrist just to force me to marry you? Summer, you make me sick."

I lifted my head, wiped the blood and tears from my face, and suddenly laughed.

"Fine. The wedding is off."

He froze for a second, then let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Quit playing hard to get. In less than three days, you'll come crawling back to me like a dog."

I grabbed the door of the VIP lounge, looked back at him, and said, "Remember this, Ethan. From this second on, I am done with you."

Then, I dialed the one number I had never dared to call in my entire life.

It rang three times before a deep, cold voice answered. "Who is this?"

"Adrian Mercer," I whispered, gripping my phone as my voice trembled. "I want you to marry me. Now."

Summer's POV

I woke up to the deafening, bone-rattling bass of heavy metal music.

My eyes snapped open. I was in a dimly lit VIP booth at a club, and sitting right across from me was Ethan Mercer, casually swirling a glass of whiskey.

"Are you done throwing your little tantrum?" Ethan raised his eyes, making no effort to hide his annoyance. "Slitting your wrist just to force me to marry you? Summer, you make me sick."

A sharp, stinging pain flared in my left wrist.

I looked down. A messy bandage was wrapped around it, and fresh blood was slowly seeping through.

I wasn't dead.

I had actually traveled five years back in time, to the exact day I tried to end my life just to force Ethan to get engaged to me.

In my past life, I loved Ethan to the point of madness.

For him, I turned my back on my own family, took a blade for him, and even handed over the tech company I built from scratch, all just for a scrap of his attention.

And what did I get in return?

Ethan took everything I worked for and handed it on a silver platter to his first love, Chloe Vance.

When I was framed by Chloe, thrown into a freezing prison, and left to die of a terminal illness, Ethan was busy throwing her the wedding of the century.

Before I took my last breath, Ethan had looked at me through the prison glass, his eyes as cold as stone. "Summer, you brought this on yourself. Chloe is sweet enough to make sure you get a proper burial."

That bone-deep, burning hatred was something I could never forget, even in death.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Seeing me stare blankly, Ethan sneered.

He grabbed a glass of ice water and splashed it straight onto my face. "Clear-headed now? Let me tell you something. Even if you bleed out right here, I will never marry you. My only wife will be Chloe."

Ice-cold water dripped down my cheeks. The freezing sting snapped me completely into reality.

I raised my hand, casually wiped the water from my face, and stared at him. My eyes were dead silent.

No screaming. No hysterical crying.

I stood up and looked down at him.

"Fine."

Ethan froze, his brows furrowing. "What did you say?"

"I said, fine." I pulled my lips back into a cold, lifeless smirk. "The wedding is off, Ethan. From now on, you and I are completely done."

Without waiting for his response, I turned and walked away.

Just as my hand touched the brass doorknob of the VIP lounge, the voices of Ethan's rich, toxic friends drifted over from behind me.

"Hey, Ethan, what kind of reverse-psychology game is Summer playing now?"

Ethan let out a sharp, arrogant laugh. "She's just bluffing. In less than three days, she'll crawl back to me like a dog."

My fingers tightened on the handle for a split second. Then, I threw the door open and walked out without looking back.

The moment I stepped out of the club, the cold night wind made me shiver.

I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I had been too terrified to call in my past life.

It rang three times before a deep, icy voice answered. "Who is this?"

"Adrian Mercer," I said, taking a sharp breath and calling him directly by his name. "It's Summer Sterling. I need to see you. Now."

Adrian Mercer. Ethan's uncle. The shadow billionaire who truly ruled New York's underworld and high society.

In my past life, I was terrified of him. It wasn't until after I died that I learned this cold, ruthless man had broken ties with the entire Mercer family just to clear my name after I was jailed. He had died in a suspicious car crash because of me.

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line.

"Thirty minutes. Penthouse suite, Grand Hyatt."