Grace sat in silence for a moment, collecting herself, before she finally spoke.

"I'll help you. But first, there's something you need to hear."

She took out her phone and played a recording-the voices of Isabella and Margaret plotting filled the room.

Summer listened, a cold smirk tugging at her lips, her eyes sharp with disdain.

Those fools never learn.

"Guess I owe you one,"Summer said, her tone almost playful.

"Then pay me back now, Miss Knight. This silver needle-it's yours, isn't it?"

Grace held out the needle.

Summer took it without hesitation. It gleamed coldly between her fingers-sharp, precise, dangerous.

"My mother left it to me,"she said honestly.

Grace knew medicine well enough to recognize that Summer's skills weren't amateur-clearly inherited from Claire Ford, once known as City Q's top healer.

"You know why I brought it up?"Grace reached into her sleeve and pulled out an identical silver needle."Look. My master told me if I ever found one like this, I had to tell him immediately."

Summer's brows lifted slightly.

The same needle? That meant her mother must have known Grace's master.

"He's a famous healer in City A. People call him Mr. Jenkins,"Grace explained, then added,"That's all I can say. Now-it's your turn to keep your word."

Summer nodded."About that incident. try looking into the woman your husband can't forget. You might find something."

With that, Grace left-so quietly no one even noticed she'd been there.

In her past life, Summer hadn't known Grace well, but she knew enough. Grace's husband, William Frost, was one of City Q's elite and a close friend of Alexander Barron.

Just last month, at Isabella's birthday party, Grace had been drugged and ended up in bed with William. The scandal forced them to marry. But William's heart belonged to someone else, and he resented Grace for it.

Only Summer knew the truth-the one who spiked the drink wasn't Grace. It was Isabella, working behind the scenes.

In a way, that made Grace and Summer allies against a common enemy.

Not long after, Summer finished packing. Truth was, she didn't have much-just a few sets of clothes. That was all she owned after years under the Knights' roof.

She didn't go downstairs. Instead, she sat calmly in her room, waiting for Isabella to show up.

Soon enough, a knock came.

Isabella stepped inside holding a steaming bowl of soup, a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face.

"Hey, sis! I made you some chicken soup. It's cold out-warm yourself up before you go."

Summer didn't even blink.Isabella-Miss I-Don't-Do-Chores-cooking for her?Hilarious. That soup was definitely spiked.

"Wow! Summer loves chicken soup! It makes her pretty so big brother will like her more! Thanks, sis!"Summer giggled.

She was practically vibrating with exaggerated excitement, flapping her hands like some over-the-top cartoon character-ridiculous, really.

Isabella smirked inwardly.What an idiot. Let her enjoy it while she can. Soon, she'll regret ever being born.

Summer took the bowl, slipping a silver needle into the soup while Isabella wasn't looking. The moment the needle touched the liquid, the color began to fade-definitely drugged.

Without missing a beat, Summer pulled the needle back and started gulping the soup like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted.

That finally made Isabella crack a smug smile. She began counting silently. The moment Summer passed out, she'd drag her to the back gate. Margaret had already arranged for someone to take her straight to that hellhole pleasure house in the capital.

But twenty seconds passed, and Summer was still perfectly fine.

Just as Isabella began to wonder if she'd been sold fake drugs, Summer suddenly spat out the soup with a dramatic grimace.

"Eww! Sis, this tastes gross. I'm done,"she whined, scrunching up her face.

"You moron! Are you messing with me?"Isabella snapped, storming over in a rage. She raised her hand, ready to slap Summer across the face.

But before the hit could land, Summer caught her wrist in a vice-like grip.

"Yeah. I am messing with you,"Summer said, her voice icy and sharp as glass. Her stare was even colder.

Isabella's face froze, panic flashing in her eyes. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. That mocking calm. that wasn't the Summer she knew.

Before Isabella could react, a sharp pain exploded at the back of her head-and everything went black.

Once Summer was sure Isabella was completely unconscious, she nudged her limp body with her foot.Yep. Out cold.

She found a large sack, stuffed Isabella inside, and slipped toward the back gate without alerting a single servant.

Meanwhile, Margaret was pacing nervously near the rear entrance, wound tight with anxiety.

"Mrs. Blake, the boat leaves in thirty minutes,"the trafficker reminded her, impatience clear in his voice."If we don't move now, we're done."

"I know, I know! I'll go hurry them,"Margaret muttered, turning to head upstairs and check on the delay.

Suddenly-

A heavy thud sounded nearby.

Margaret nearly jumped out of her skin, convinced they'd been caught. But when she looked, she saw a sack lying a few meters away, a human shape faintly visible inside.

She grinned in relief and hurried over.Had to be Summer.

She assumed Isabella must've had a reason for stuffing her in a sack, but whatever-the job was done.

What Margaret didn't see was the slim figure standing silently around the corner, watching everything with cold, gleaming eyes. Summer observed, a smirk of cold mockery on her lips.

Earlier, she'd used the needle to knock Isabella out-but not deeply. She wanted her to wake up. She wanted her to see with her own eyes that it was her own mother handing her over to traffickers, sending her straight to hell.

Isabella wanted her tortured to death?

Let's see who ends up begging in the end.

Later, Summer planned to have Grace leak photos of her and Alexander looking intimate on the island-just to stir the pot even more.

By then, Isabella would already be missing. It wouldn't be long before Margaret realized the girl she'd just handed over. was her own daughter.

That kind of pain would shatter her.

After this?

Next targets: Charles Knight and James Carter.

She would make every single person who'd hurt her in her past life pay-without exception.

Margaret Blake approached the sack, a smug smile creeping across her face. She had no idea that it wasn't Summer Knight inside-it was her own daughter, Isabella.

Watching from a distance, Summer's eyes turned cold, a mocking smirk playing on her lips before she turned and left. She needed to catch Ethan Hart's car to the island immediately.

As she pulled her suitcase downstairs, Charles Knight greeted her with exaggerated warmth, rushing over.

"Summer, that looks heavy. Let me get that for you!"

Summer shook her head, setting the suitcase down. Fighting back nausea, she forced a tearful hug.

"Sniff. Daddy, I really don't want to leave you."

"I don't want you to go either!"Charles was just as skilled at pretending, his eyes instantly welling up with fake tears.

He desperately wanted to ask about Claire Ford's hidden fortune, but before he could speak, Summer cut in.

"Sniff. Daddy, I'm sorry I tricked you with that song last time. But I really do remember where Mom's treasure is. I'd tell you now, but Big Brother is waiting."

"You can come to the island tomorrow, Daddy, and I'll show you everything then, okay?"

"You're such a good girl, Summer!"Charles beamed as if he'd won the lottery.

That fortune would save the Knight family from ruin. Plus, with Summer marrying Alexander Barron, he'd be the father-in-law of the Barron empire's CEO-finally someone important in City Q.

The Knights would be the next big dynasty!

As he walked her to the door, Charles could barely contain his excitement, though he tried to hide his grin, his face flushing with strange delight.

But Summer saw right through him. That over-the-top enthusiasm was exactly what she needed.

The moment she saw his flattering expression downstairs, she decided not to have Grace Hill leak anything to Margaret.

No-she wanted Charles to see her on that island with his own eyes, then run back and break the news to Margaret himself. That would hurt so much more.

Because Summer hadn't forgotten-not for a second-that it was Charles and Margaret who drove Claire to her death.

She would have her revenge, and she would make it count.

-

Meanwhile, at the back of the property-

Margaret suspected nothing about who was inside the sack. Her face twisted with malice as she barked at the traffickers to bring the van around. Then, rolling up her sleeves, she prepared to lift the bag herself.

Just then, Isabella finally woke up.

Her head spun with confusion.

Where was she? Why was it so dark?

When someone touched the sack, Isabella flinched and began struggling in panic.

The sudden movement caught Margaret completely off guard, sending her tumbling to the ground, limbs flailing.

Her hand landed directly on the silver needle Summer had dropped earlier. A sharp, searing pain shot through her.

Margaret hissed, her face contorted with rage as she spat,"Summer, you little b*tch! Still fighting back when you're done for? Just wait-I'll teach you a lesson for what you did to my Isabella!"

Margaret grew angrier with every word, her eyes locking onto the silver needle on the ground. A dark glint flashed in her eyes.

Snatching the needle, she stomped toward the burlap sack.

Inside, Isabella had felt a flicker of hope when she heard her mother's voice-but it froze into ice when she realized Margaret had called her "Summer."

A jolt ran through her. In that split second, she remembered how her plan to trap Summer had backfired.

That b*tch Summer. Was she pretending to be dumb all along?

Before she could process what went wrong, a searing pain tore through her limbs-like her nerves were being shredded.

"Summer, you witch! Let's see if I can poke you dead!"

Margaret's face was twisted with hatred, her eyes bloodshot as she stabbed the sack over and over with the needle.

She thought she was torturing Summer's soul, but every jab was piercing her own daughter-the one she'd shielded all her life, the one she couldn't bear to see hurt.

Margaret's rage spiraled out of control, and she even began screaming curses at Claire Ford's ghost.

Inside the sack, Isabella was on the brink. Her face had gone ghost white, tears soaking her cheeks.

She wanted to scream, to tell the woman outside,"I'm Isabella! Not Summer!"

But her mouth was sealed with tape, her hands and feet tied until they were numb. She could only twist and writhe, dodging the next stab as best she could.

And the more she struggled, the angrier Margaret became.

All that hate Margaret poured into the needle went straight into Isabella's body.

Just then, one of the traffickers rushed over and yanked Margaret back.

"Whoa there, Mrs. Knight! Keep stabbing like that and she'll be dead. How are we supposed to sell her then?"

Only then did Margaret snap out of it. She threw the needle aside, breathing heavily.

But Isabella was already a wreck, covered from head to toe in bloody welts. Even the sack was soaked through with red-it looked like a scene from a nightmare.

Next, Margaret helped the traffickers heave the sack into the van.

Right before they left, she paused. Turning back with a sneer, she warned them to make sure they"treat"the person in the sack well on the boat. If the job went smoothly, she'd double their payment.

Isabella knew exactly what that"treat"meant.

Her body shook with terror.

No. She couldn't end up in that hellhole in the capital-not that brothel.

Once you're in there. you either die or never get out.

Tears flooded her face again, and she thrashed wildly in panic.

But the trafficker just slammed the trunk shut with a heavy thud.

Darkness swallowed her completely.

That's when she finally blacked out from despair.

-

Meanwhile, Margaret remained clueless.

She turned around, beaming with pride.

Time to head to the front gate and see Isabella off.

If that trip to the island worked? She'd be the mother-in-law to the head of the Barron Empire.

Unlimited money, gold everywhere, and those high-society wives in City Q would finally have to show her respect!

The more she thought about it, the more she floated on air.

She was practically skipping, drunk on her own dream.

But when Margaret Blake reached the front gate, Charles Knight bluntly informed her that Summer had already left.

She stared at him, shocked."What? That little brat left without even saying a proper goodbye to me?"

She seemed a little disappointed, maybe even a bit sentimental. But as soon as she remembered that her and Isabella's plan was nearing success, her face instantly brightened.

"You've never liked Summer anyway. Now that she's gone, why keep pretending?"Charles gave her a strange look before turning and heading back inside.

Margaret didn't care about his obvious disgust at all.

'Whatever. Once the plan works, I'm planning to kick Charles out too!'

-

In the car, thinking about what had just happened, Summer couldn't help but smile. Her bright eyes sparkled with amusement.

She was so pleased she even started humming to herself.

Grace had probably already handled the tasks she'd assigned.Tomorrow is going to be wildly entertaining.

As they stopped at a red light, Ethan Hart glanced at Summer's reflection in the rearview mirror and couldn't resist asking,"You seem to be in very good spirits today, ma'am."

Just imagining Margaret's face when she realized she'd auctioned off her own daughter? That gut-punch expression?Oh yes, Summer was definitely in a good mood.

Grinning widely, she joked,"It's such a chilly day. Of course I'm happy!"

The colder the weather, the closer the fall of the Knight Group.

She had vowed-after dealing with Isabella and Margaret, Charles was next.

The Knight Group was her mother's legacy. She was taking it back.

Ethan shot a glance outside. The sky was clear, the moonlight gentle, stars scattered across the night. The breeze was barely noticeable.

Cold? Where?

Also, how did cold weather connect to being cheerful?

But then he remembered Alexander's message-essentially giving Summer free rein.

That was explanation enough.

Both of them were. not exactly easy to deal with.

Soon, the light turned green.

As their car moved forward, a gray van brushed past from the opposite direction. Inside that van was Isabella Knight.

But each vehicle sped off in a completely different direction-toward completely different fates.

-

An hour and a half later, Ethan pulled up at Alexander Barron's private island villa.

This island had once belonged to Alexander's grandfather.

After the Barrons found him and brought him back into the family, he'd holed up here without ever stepping foot out.

To keep him from inheriting anything, the second and third branches of the family spread rumors all over City Q about him being hideous and temperamental.

Alexander, playing along, never bothered to deny it.

In the end, that "invisible" man pulled off something no one saw coming-he took control of the entire Barron Empire.

Everyone wanted to know how he did it-including Summer herself.

"Ma'am, we've arrived."

Ethan stepped out, opened the door for Summer, took her suitcase, and led her toward the villa.

At the entrance, Mrs. Thompson stood in a neat line with the rest of the staff, waiting.

The moment Summer appeared, a flicker of condescension passed through Mrs. Thompson's eyes.

The housekeepers greeted in unison,"Good evening, ma'am!"

But Mrs. Thompson gave only the faintest nod, her attitude clearly half-hearted.What's so special about some dumb young madam that she deserves my respect?

Summer Knight hadn't forgotten Mrs. Thompson-not one bit.

Back in the day, Mrs. Thompson had served at the old Barron residence, taking care of Mr. Barron Sr. He trusted her deeply and gave her significant authority, so she essentially ran the house like a queen. The place was crawling with staff trying to suck up to her-gifts, favors, flattery-you name it. Naturally, it made her arrogant and full of herself.

When Alexander was brought back to the family, the old man, feeling sorry for him, sent Mrs. Thompson to the island to take care of him. Let's be real-there was nothing on this island. She became the boss almost instantly, and with no one to challenge her, her attitude only got worse.

One wrong move from any staff member? She'd kick them out on the spot.

To be honest, if Alexander hadn't been so intimidating, she might've even tried to push him around too.

In her last life, after Summer married into the Barrons, Mrs. Thompson bullied her relentlessly. It was brutal.

But things were different now. Alexander hadn't fired her yet, so of course Summer was going to settle that old score properly. She wasn't that clueless pushover anymore-now she had the intelligence and the guts to put this arrogant servant in her place.

After Ethan dropped her off, he drove away immediately. Mr. Barron had given him another task-no time to linger.

The moment Ethan was gone, Mrs. Thompson's attitude dropped another notch. She shot Summer a lazy glance and turned to go back to her room.

A dumb girl like that? Not worth missing a second of my beauty sleep. What a joke.

But just as she turned around, Summer called out to her.

"Mrs. Thompson, where's big brother?"

She puffed out her cheeks, the picture of dumb innocence.

Mrs. Thompson paused for a second before realizing that "big brother" meant Mr. Barron.

At first, she had zero interest in talking to this fool, but then it hit her-why not use this chance to put the new madam in her place? Remind her who really calls the shots around here.

Suddenly all smiles, she replied sweetly,"Young Madam, Master Barron is waiting for you upstairs."

"Okay! Thanks, Mrs. Thompson!"

Summer beamed with silly gratitude and skipped toward the stairs. But as she passed by, she "accidentally" stomped hard on Mrs. Thompson's foot.

"You-!"Mrs. Thompson's face twisted with rage, her hand twitching as if she were about to slap her.

But Summer was quicker.

"Big brother, I'm coming to see you!"she yelled with exaggerated cheer.

Mrs. Thompson froze. She couldn't lay a finger on her now. Not with Alexander upstairs.

Alexander Barron wasn't just anybody-he now ran the whole Barron Empire and wasn't someone Mrs. Thompson could mess with.

Thing was, Alexander was upstairs taking a shower. And everyone knew how angry he could get-plus, he was a total clean freak.

The other branches of the Barron family had tried sending girls over before, hoping they'd seduce him while he was bathing or sleeping. Every single one ended up being dragged off to the back hill. where his giant Tibetan mastiff waited.

Even now, just remembering those women's screams sent a chill down Mrs. Thompson's spine.

So if this silly girl really walked in on Alexander mid-shower? With his temper? Even if he didn't have her fed to the dog, she'd probably be tossed out so hard she'd become the laughingstock of the whole city.

Thinking about it, Mrs. Thompson couldn't help but grin wickedly.

That girl was doomed to be her little punching bag.

Or at least. that's what she thought.

The next second, reality slapped her right in the face.