Chapter 3

Summer's POV

The next morning, Ethan woke me up early.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his voice tender. "Morning, Summer. Time to get dressed."

I sat up obediently.

Ethan walked to the closet, opened the doors, and pulled out the white gown.

A few minutes later, I stood in front of the vanity mirror in the dressing room, my back arched as I struggled to reach the zipper.

A pair of warm hands covered mine from behind, smoothly taking the metal clasp from my fingers.

Ethan stared at my reflection in the mirror, a faint smile on his lips.

His movements were light, his fingers brushing against my spine as he slowly pulled the zipper up.

The dress was a fraction too tight. As the metal teeth scraped against my skin, my body instinctively tensed, a small shiver running down my back.

Ethan placed his hands on my shoulders, parting my long hair to one side.

He leaned down, pressing his face against my neck. His warm breath fanned across my cold skin, his voice as gentle as always.

"Summer, today is a big day. If the reporters ask you anything, just say exactly what we practiced yesterday, okay?"

The tone was the same one you'd use to coax a difficult child. It made my blood run cold.

I stared blankly at his reflection. "Okay."

Half an hour later, I was led into the grand hall of the International Design Awards.

The red carpet was swarming with media. The flashing lights were blinding.

Chloe, dressed in a stunning gold gown, was holding the trophy that belonged to my family. She smiled radiantly for the cameras.

When she saw Ethan leading me inside, she picked up her skirt and walked over, grabbing my hand.

She leaned in close, whispering venomously in my ear, "A brain-dead bitch belongs in an asylum. But I have to thank you. Even as a cripple, you still had to crawl out today to hand me my trophy."

I heard every single word.

My eyes remained vacant, but I bit the inside of my cheek until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

Ethan kept his arm wrapped around my waist, his posture protective and doting. To anyone else, he looked like the ultimate devoted husband.

With this sickeningly sweet display, he guided me toward a row of microphones.

The cameras focused on us instantly.

Ethan leaned down, his voice a warm whisper in my ear. "Tell the press that the cathedral design was just a manic scribble you did, and that Chloe completed it entirely on her own. Apologize to her, Summer. Be a good girl."

I looked at the reporters eagerly waiting, then at Chloe's smug, triumphant grin.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them, they were wide with pure, unadulterated terror.

"Ah!"

I let out a blood-curdling shriek and violently slammed my hands forward, knocking the heavy microphone stand into the press row.

The metal stand crashed onto the marble floor, causing the speakers to erupt in a deafening screech of feedback.

"Bugs! There are bugs biting me!"

I flailed my arms wildly, my palm connecting with Chloe's face in a brutal, resounding slap!

SMACK!

The force of the blow was massive.

Chloe stumbled back several steps and collapsed onto the floor, the gold trophy flying from her hands and shattering into two pieces.

"Summer! What the hell are you doing?!"

Ethan's face twisted in horror as he reached out to grab me.

I ducked under his arms, screaming as I ran toward the massive promotional banner on the stage. I clawed at the fabric, ripping Chloe's face to shreds with my fingernails.

"Red bugs! They're crawling out of the blueprints! They're eating my dad's brain!"

I howled, digging my nails deep into my own face and neck, leaving red welts across my skin.

Blood trickled down my collarbone, staining the chest of my pristine white gown.

The entire venue erupted into chaos. Screams and shutter clicks filled the air.

"Don't let them bite me! Ethan, save me!"

I threw myself into Ethan's arms, my body convulsing as I forced white foam to bubble at the corners of my mouth.

Ethan held me tight, rubbing my back, his face filled with panic and concern.

But from an angle no one else could see, a brief flash of relief washed over his eyes.

He truly believed I had finally lost it.

"I'm incredibly sorry, everyone. My wife's condition has flared up. Please excuse us," Ethan announced coldly. He scooped up my shaking body and marched out of the venue.

The camera flashes strobed wildly behind us.

I lay limp against Ethan's shoulder, my warm blood soaking into the fabric of his white shirt.

Over his shoulder, I stared coldly at the shattered gold trophy lying on the red carpet.