Summer's Pov

Monday arrives like an execution date.

I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Crew's face, that cold fury, felt his hand on my throat, heard his voice promising to make me wish I was dead. By the time my alarm goes off at six, I've already been awake for two hours, staring at my ceiling and trying not to panic.

Today is the chemistry test. The one I've been studying for all week. The one that could drop my GPA if I don't ace it.

And today is the day Crew Ashford is going to destroy me.

Ty's car is already waiting when I step outside. Ruby's in the passenger seat, and she twists around to look at me as I slide into the back.

"Morning, sunshine," she says, way too cheerful for someone who was sobbing over a breakup less than twenty-four hours ago. "You ready to crush this test?"

"Yeah," I lie, pulling my backpack onto my lap like a shield.

Ty catches my eye in the rearview mirror. He knows something's wrong-he always knows-but he doesn't push. Not yet.

Ruby keeps talking the whole drive, something about Cain texting her last night and how she's definitely not responding even though she totally wants to. I make appropriate noises at the right moments, but I'm not really listening. I'm too busy running through escape routes in my head.

Get to class early. Take the test. Leave immediately. Don't make eye contact with anyone. Don't give Crew a chance to corner me.

Simple.

"You've got this," Ruby says as we pull into the parking lot. "You're literally the smartest person I know. This test is nothing."

If only the test was the thing I was worried about.

We split up at the main entrance, Ruby and Ty have calculus first period, I have chemistry.

Different class from Crew, thank god.

I practically run to the chemistry lab, slide into my seat, and keep my head down. The test is already on my desk, face-down, waiting. I stare at it and try to remember how to breathe.

The next hour passes in a blur of equations and molecular structures. I know this material. I've studied it until the formulas are burned into my brain. My pencil moves across the page automatically, filling in answers, showing my work, double-checking calculations.

When I finish, I'm the first one done.

I should wait, but I can't stay here. I need to get out of this building before Crew sees me.

I grab my backpack and practically throw myself out of my chair.

"Leaving already, Ms. Winters?" Mr. Patterson looks up from his desk.

"Yes, sir. I'm finished."

He nods, and I'm out the door before he can say anything else.

The hallway is mostly empty-the first period isn't over yet. I walk fast, head down, backpack clutched to my chest. If I can just make it to the parking lot, I can call Ty, ask him to take me home early, say I'm sick...

"Summer! Wait up!"

Ruby's voice echoes down the hallway. I turn to see her jogging toward me, Ty right behind her.

"How'd the test go?" She's grinning. "I knew you'd finish early. You're such a nerd."

"It was fine." I'm already moving again, pulling them with me toward the exit. "I need to go home."

"Home?" Ty frowns. "Now? It's only eleven thirty."

"I just...I need to go. Please."

"Are you okay?" His hand lands on my shoulder, gentle and concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine. I just really need to go."

There was no need telling him to take me home now, I just said goodbye and immediately dashed out.

One second I'm walking, the next I'm airborne, my backpack flying from my hands as I crash into the linoleum floor. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. Pain explodes in my palms where I tried to catch myself. My glasses fly off my face and I hear the distinct sound of plastic cracking.

No.

No no no no-

"Oh wow," a familiar voice says above me. "That looked like it hurt."

I look up through blurred vision, everything's fuzzy without my glasses and see Crew standing over me. His two friends flank him like guard dogs. And there, hanging off his arm with a perfect manicured hand, is Brianna.

She's smiling.

Crew squats down next to me, all false concern. "You know what, Summer? I'm a good person. I think I should help you up."

He extends his hand.

I stare at it like it's a snake. Every instinct screams not to touch him, not to give him anything he can use against me. I push myself up on shaking arms, ignoring the sting in my scraped palms.

My glasses. Where are they...

I spot them a few feet away. The frame is cracked, one lens completely shattered. Those were new. I saved for two months to buy them because my mom couldn't afford another pair and I needed them to see the board in class.

Two months. Gone.

I reach for them, but Crew's faster. His foot comes down on the broken frame, grinding the pieces into smaller fragments.

"Oops," he says.

Something breaks inside me. "Please," I whisper. "Just leave me alone."

"Leave you alone?" He tilts his head, studying me like I'm an interesting insect. "But we're just getting started."

He grabs my backpack before I can reach it.

Where he gets the box cutter from, I don't know. Maybe he carries it. Maybe one of his friends handed it to him. It doesn't matter.

He slices through the fabric in one clean motion.

"No-" I lunge for it, but he holds it above his head, out of reach.

My books tumble out first. Then my notebooks, papers scattering across the floor. My phone hits the linoleum and the screen shatters with a sound that makes my stomach drop. The Tupperware container with the sandwich I packed for lunch, because I can't afford cafeteria food pops open, and bread and turkey go sliding across the hallway.

"Stop," I'm begging now, trying to grab the backpack, jumping for it like some pathetic dog. "Please stop, please-"

Brianna laughs. It's a bright, cheerful sound that doesn't match the cruelty in her eyes. "Oh my god, this is so sad."

Crew's friends, Jason and Marcus, I think their names are-join in, their laughter echoing off the walls.

"Please," I'm crying now, I can't help it. Tears blur what little vision I have left. "Please just give it back..."

He tosses the destroyed backpack at me. It hits my chest and falls to the floor, adding insult to injury.

I drop to my knees and start gathering everything with shaking hands. My ruined phone. My scattered papers. The sandwich I can't eat now because it touched the dirty floor and that was supposed to be lunch and dinner because we're out of groceries until Mom gets paid on Friday.

Through my tears, I see them walk away. Crew's arm around Brianna's shoulders, his friends trailing behind, all of them laughing like this is the funniest thing they've ever seen.

I shove everything into the ruined backpack, it won't zip anymore, the fabric too damaged...and I run.

I don't stop until I reach the street, where I flag down a cab with shaking hands.

"Where to?" the driver asks.

I give him my address through tears, and he mercifully doesn't comment on the state I'm in.

The whole ride home, I cry silently in the backseat. Crew didn't just destroy my things. He destroyed them in front of everyone. By tomorrow, the whole school will know. The video is probably already circulating.

The scholarship girl who thought she could challenge Crew Ashford.

Look what happened to her.

When the cab pulls up to my building, I wipe my face quickly. I scrub at my cheeks, trying to look less like I've been sobbing for twenty minutes.

The apartment lights are on.

Mom's not supposed to be home. She works double shifts on Mondays, morning at the hospital, evening at the clinic. She shouldn't be here.

I push open the door and the smell hits me immediately. Something cooking. Something expensive that we never make because we can't afford it.

"Mom?"

"Oh, honey!" Her voice comes from the kitchen, too bright, too happy. "You're back from school! I wanted you to meet someone. Come here!"

No. Not now. I can't do this now.

She appears in the doorway, and her smile falters when she sees my face. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I wipe my eyes again. "I'm fine, I just need to-"

"Please." She takes my hand, and I realize she's dressed up. Actually dressed up, in the nice blouse she saves for special occasions. "I need to introduce you to someone. The man I've been seeing? He's here. And honey, I have news."

My stomach drops. "What news?"

"We're getting married."

The world tilts.

"What?" The word comes out strangled. "Mom, you can't....why would you-"

"I know." She squeezes my hand, and I see tears in her eyes. Happy tears. "I know your father, no one will ever replace him. But sweetie, we need this. And Richard is wonderful. He's successful and kind and he wants to take care of us-"

"I don't want this." I pull away from her. "I don't want some stranger coming in and..."

"You're going to want it." Her voice firms up, that mom-tone that means the discussion is over. "Now come on. He's waiting."

She practically drags me toward the dining room, and I'm still wiping my face, still trying to process what she just said, still reeling from everything that happened at school...

And then I see who's sitting at our tiny dining room table.

Richard Ashford.

Crew's father.

The billionaire whose face is on half the sports magazines in the country. Former NHL legend. Current sports agent to half the league.

The man whose son just destroyed my life is sitting in my kitchen, smiling at me like we're about to become family.

"Summer," Mom says, her voice full of pride and happiness that makes me want to scream. "This is Richard. Richard, this is my daughter."

He stands, extending his hand. He's tall, Crew got his height from somewhere, and handsome in that distinguished older man way. His smile is warm and genuine.

I stare at his hand and think about his son's hand around my throat.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you," Richard says. "Your mother has told me so much about you."

I can't breathe.

I can't do this.

My tormentor is about to become my stepbrother.

Summer's Pov

I ran.

I just turn and ran out of the dining room, down the narrow hallway, into my bedroom, my tiny, cramped bedroom with the cracked ceiling and the window that doesn't close all the way. I slam the door and lock it, pressing my back against the wood like that will somehow keep the world out.

Crew's father. Of all the men in this city, my mother is marrying Crew's father.

I slide down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, and the sobs come hard and fast. My whole body shakes with them. This morning I thought things couldn't get worse than being humiliated in front of the entire school. I was wrong. So catastrophically wrong.

"Summer." Mom's voice comes through the door, sharp with disapproval. "Open this door right now."

"No."

"Summer Elizabeth Winters, you open this door or so help me-"

I unlock it because I don't have the energy to fight. She pushes inside, and I can see the anger in her face.

The disappointment.

"That was disrespectful," she says. "That was incredibly rude. Richard is a good man and you just-"

"Mom, we can't do this." The words tumble out desperate and broken. 

"You can't marry him. Please. I don't want this. We can't-"

"It's already decided." Her voice softens just slightly, but there's steel underneath. "This is my life, Summer. My choice. And this is good for us. Don't you see that? He's going to make everything better."

"Mom-"

"You won't have to worry anymore." She kneels down in front of me, taking my hands. "No more worrying about food or bills or clothes. No more living in this tiny apartment with the broken heating. You'll have your own room-a real room. You'll have everything you need for school. We'll finally be okay."

"I can't do this." I'm crying again, can't seem to stop. "Mom, this is Crew's father. Crew Ashford. I've told you about him. We're not....we can't...he hates me, Mom. He hates me."

"So he's your stepbrother now." She squeezes my hands. "That changes things. Being family will change things. This marriage is going to work, honey. I need you to trust me."

"It won't work." Something inside me cracks wide open. "Nothing can make this work. Nobody can replace Dad. Nobody. How could you do this? How could you just-"

"Don't." Her voice goes sharp.

"Don't you dare bring your father into this."

"He's only been gone five years, Mom. Five years. And you're already..."

"Stop it!" She stands up so fast I flinch. "You think I don't know how long it's been? You think I don't count every single day? I loved your father more than anything in this world, but he's gone, Summer. He's gone and we're still here and we're drowning and I..."

She stops. Her hand goes to her chest.

"Mom?"

Her face goes pale. Then gray. She gasps, a horrible rattling sound, and her knees buckle.

"Mom!" I catch her as she falls, but she's too heavy, we both hit the floor. "Mom, no, please-help! Somebody help!"

Her eyes roll back. Her whole body is shaking.

"MOM!"

The door crashes open. Richard fills the doorway, and the next few minutes are pure chaos-him lifting my mother like she weighs nothing, me following them out, stumbling, crying, everything blurring together. His car is parked outside and it's massive and sleek and I don't care, I just climb in the back where he's laid her across the seat.

"Mom, I'm sorry," I'm sobbing, holding her hand. "I'm so sorry, this is my fault, I'm sorry..."

Richard drives like a demon. We get to the hospital in what must be record time, and then there are people in scrubs taking her away, someone's asking me questions I can't answer, and Richard is talking to doctors in a voice that commands instant attention.

They take her to the emergency ward. The doors swing shut behind her, and I'm left standing in a sterile hallway that smells like antiseptic and fear.

This is my fault.

I did this.

I caused this.

"Summer." Richard's hand lands on my shoulder, gentle. "You should go home. Get some rest. She's going to be fine."

"I want to stay with her."

"I know. But she's not even awake right now, and you need to take care of yourself." He squeezes my shoulder. "Please. Go home. I'll call you the second there's any news."

I want to argue. But I'm so tired, and my mother is unconscious because of me, and I can't even call Ruby or Ty because my phone is shattered in pieces in my destroyed backpack.

"Okay," I whisper.

A nurse helps me find a cab. I give the driver my address through tears, and when I get home, the apartment feels emptier than it ever has before. Richard is still at the hospital. My mother is in emergency. And I'm alone with my guilt.

I cry myself to sleep on the couch because I can't face going to my bedroom.

****

The next morning, I wake up with my face stuck to the cushion and my whole body aching. I've never missed a day of school in my life. My perfect attendance is part of what keeps my scholarship secure.

But I can't go today. I can't face those hallways, can't face Crew, can't face anyone.

I skip.

It feels like the end of the world.

Instead, I take a bus to the hospital. 

My mother is awake when I get there, sitting up in bed, looking small and tired but alive. Relief hits me so hard I almost collapse.

"I'm sorry," I say immediately, going to her bedside. "Mom, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Shh." She takes my hand. "I know, baby. I know."

Richard is there too, standing by the window, looking exhausted. When he sees me, he smiles.

"The doctors say she's going to be fine," he says. "She just needs rest and medication. No stress."

The guilt crushes me all over again. I caused her stress. I did this.

"Thank you," I say quietly. "For paying for everything. For being here."

"She's the love of my life now." Richard comes over, and there's such genuine warmth in his face that I almost understand why my mother fell for him. 

"You and her are my responsibility. I take care of what's mine."

The doctor comes in then, explaining medications and follow-up appointments. Richard handles everything. When they finally discharge my mother-after hours of observation and tests-he tells us we're not going back to the apartment.

"Everything's arranged," he says. "You're moving in today. There's no reason to go back to that place."

"Today?" My voice cracks. "I haven't packed anything. My books, my clothes-"

"You don't need to bring anything." He says it so casually, like he's talking about throwing away trash instead of our entire life. 

"Everything you need is already at the house. New clothes, new books, new everything. We'll send someone to collect anything important later."

I look at my mother. She's nodding, smiling, like this is all perfectly normal.

This is really happening.

We're really doing this.

The drive to Richard's house takes twenty minutes. Twenty minutes out of our neighborhood, through increasingly nice areas, until we're in a part of the city I've only ever seen in magazines.

When we reach the gate, I stop breathing.

It's like something from a movie. Massive iron gates that open automatically, revealing a driveway that seems to stretch forever. 

There's a fountain, an actual fountain with marble sculptures. Trees line the path. And at the end, rising up like a castle, is the mansion.

Twenty people could live here and never see each other.

"Do you like it?" Richard asks, and there's such hope in his voice.

"It's beautiful," I manage.

We pull up to the front entrance, and staff-actual staff in uniforms-come out to help my mother from the car. She's moving slowly, still weak, and they treat her like she's made of glass.

Richard leads us inside, through a foyer with a chandelier that probably costs more than our entire apartment building, into a living room with ceilings so high my voice would echo.

And standing there, arms crossed, face carved from stone, is Crew.

He's wearing practice clothes-hockey gear slung over one shoulder. His hair is damp from the shower. He looks like he just got back from the rink, and the sight of him makes my stomach drop through the floor.

"Crew!" Richard's voice is warm. 

"You're back from practice."

"Yeah." The crew's eyes don't leave me. "Dad."

"Good, good. Listen, I have an update." Richard puts his hand on my mother's lower back, guiding her forward. 

"You know Victoria, the woman I've been telling you about. This is her. And her daughter, Summer."

Richard looks between us. "You might know each other from school."

"Yeah." Crew's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "We've met."

He walks toward me, and every instinct screams to run. But I'm frozen. My mother is right here. Richard is right here. I can't make a scene.

Crew stops in front of me, towering over me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

"Welcome home, sis," he says.

Then he hugs me.

It's not a real hug. It's a trap. His arms wrap around me, pulling me against his chest, and his mouth is right by my ear when he whispers:

"I'm so glad to have you here. This makes everything so much better. You have no idea how much fun we're going to have."

His grip tightens just enough to hurt.

"Welcome to hell, Summer."