Chapter 4

Summer's POV

Dinner was served at the long mahogany table of the estate.

My father sat at the head of the table, Julian on his left, and I was placed directly opposite Julian. When the soup was served, nobody picked up their forks.

My father had clearly been holding his anger back all afternoon. The moment he sat, he spoke. "Fine, the security access is gone. But the engagement cannot be canceled immediately. The public doesn't know you lost your memory; they only know you and Julian are tied together. If you let go now, our stock prices will plunge."

I looked at him. "So you want me to keep playing a part?"

"Just for a few months," my father said, softening his tone. "Until the Southside Project is finalized. After that, you two can do whatever you want in private."

I let out a dry laugh. "Is that how you used to convince me in the past?"

My father's face stiffened.

I pushed my salad around with my fork, then laid it down. "First, you say it's for the family. Then, you say it's for the project. Finally, you say it's for my own good. And when I actually cage Julian, everyone turns around and calls me a psycho."

My father slammed his hand on the table. "Oh, now you're playing the rational one? Who was the one screaming and refusing to let him go in the first place?"

"It was me," I admitted, looking him in the eye. "Which is why I'm changing it now."

Julian sipped his tea, looking like a bystander watching a drama that had nothing to do with him. Only when my father turned the target on him did he look up.

"Julian, say something. She isn't thinking straight right now. You can't just let her ruin everything."

Julian set his cup down. "When she was 'thinking straight,' you didn't exactly stop her from ruining things either."

My father choked on his words.

I looked at Julian. His tone was level, free of any obvious emotion, but there was a heavy exhaustion hidden beneath his words—a weariness that said he was done covering up for everyone.

The dining room went cold.

My father quickly changed his tactic. "Julian, your mother's healthcare trust fund is still managed under the Vance Group. If you cut ties with Summer now, the board will review your access."

I finally understood. I used to hold Julian's weak spot, and now my father was doing the exact same thing. I thought I was the only villain in this story, but it turned out the villainy was a family affair.

I stood up. "Send me the account details for his mother's trust."

My father frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Transferring it," I said. "Into Julian's personal trust, or directly to the hospital's private account. From today on, nobody is going to use his mother to threaten him ever again."

My father sneered. "Do you have any idea how complicated that paperwork is?"

"I only know that threatening people is easier," I said, staring at him. "But easy doesn't make it right."

My father slammed his fork down in rage.

But Julian spoke up quietly. "There's no need."

I froze.

He looked at me. "My mother passed away three months ago."

It felt like the entire room had been submerged in ice water. My ears began to ring. In the chunk of memory I had lost, there was a funeral. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

My father looked away, avoiding my eyes.

Julian's voice was flat, as if he were talking about someone else. "You were in London negotiating a deal back then. By the time you rushed back, the funeral was already over. You threw a fit, smashed the displays in the family chapel, and forced me to bring her ashes back to the estate. But then you regretted it, and you knelt outside the chapel doors all night."

My eyes stung. "Why did nobody tell me?"

Julian set his napkin down. "Because you forgot me, and you forgot her."

That sentence carried more weight than any insult.

I didn't sleep that night. I sat in the second-floor library, pulling out every old document I could find. Just before dawn, I found an incomplete transfer application. The applicant was the me from three months ago. I had already planned to transfer Julian's mother's medical assets out of the Vance Group. I was only missing a signature on the final page.

Next to the document was a sticky note in my handwriting from before the accident: Stop using the dead to cage the living.

I stared at those words for a very long time, my chest squeezing painfully. I didn't know if the me who wrote that was sane, broken, or simply too exhausted to keep hurting him. But at least it proved that the past me wasn't entirely heartless. Knowing you're wrong and doing nothing about it, though—that was even worse.

At dawn, Julian walked in and saw me sitting in the middle of a sea of paper. "Have you been doing this all night?"

I looked up, my eyes bloodshot. "Where is she buried?"

Julian’s face immediately turned cold. I knew the question was too late, and incredibly cruel, but I still forced it out. "Once I finish transferring these assets, I want to go and apologize to her. If you don't want me there, I understand. I won't go without your permission."

Julian remained silent until the morning sun fully lit the room.

"We'll talk about that later," he said.