As she followed the concierge out of the banquet hall, the clamor and excitement behind her were abruptly cut off, as if by an invisible wall dividing two different worlds.
Summer Thorne slowly came to a halt.
The concierge observed her expression and said in a low voice, "Mrs. Crawford, the lounge is this way."
Summer Thorne's expression remained neutral. "I'm not feeling well. I'd like to go home and rest. Please thank Mr. York for me."
"Mrs. Crawford!" The concierge hurried to block her path. "There are a lot of reporters outside," he whispered. "If you leave now, you'll be swarmed."
Summer Thorne paused at his words, but after a moment, she said, "All right. I'll steer clear of them. Reporters… they are a nuisance."
Even as she said this, she headed straight for the main entrance.
The news that the Sutton Family was on the verge of bankruptcy and that Mason Crawford was leaving them to fail had been the talk of the town. With the added melodrama from the banquet hall tonight, it was impossible for the reporters to ignore.
Sure enough, as soon as she reached the main lobby, several reporters immediately surrounded her.
"Mrs. Crawford, you've rarely appeared in public. Why did you decide to attend the York Group's banquet this time?"
"What are your thoughts on the Sutton Group's current crisis, Mrs. Crawford? How does the Sutton Group plan to handle it?"
"We've heard that the reason Mr. Crawford didn't attend today was because he was having dinner with his new girlfriend. Were you aware of this?"
As the reporter spoke, they held out a phone. Summer Thorne took it and immediately saw the entertainment news headline—
Mason Crawford dines with new flame Holly Vaughn, returning to their love nest together.
She knew of Holly Vaughn—a model who had recently shot to fame. Great figure, beautiful face, the cool and aloof type of beauty. She was highly regarded in the industry.
Yesterday it was some innocent young thing, today it was Holly Vaughn—
A new one every day. That was certainly Mason Crawford's style.
Summer Thorne was long accustomed to this sort of thing. But what she was thinking right now was—
'Haven't they gotten wind of what just happened inside yet?'
As if to confirm her thought, one of the reporters suddenly answered a call. His expression immediately lit up with excitement, and he practically shoved his recording device in Summer Thorne's face—
"We've heard you were accused at the banquet of harming an innocent girl, causing her to be humiliated and permanently disabled, all so you could marry into the Carrington Family. Do you have any comment on this?"
At the same time, many more reporters swarmed in from all directions, so excited they were just short of shoving their cameras right in her face.
"Do you admit to doing such a thing?"
"What was the girl's name?"
"Did she have a special relationship with Mr. Crawford?"
"Does Mr. Crawford know what you did?"
"Is this the reason Mr. Crawford is leaving the Sutton Family to fail?"
The reporters clamored all at once, camera flashes going off nonstop. Trapped in the middle, Summer Thorne barely had room to breathe.
The concierge and security staff on site, worried something might happen, quickly stepped forward to block the reporters and escort Summer Thorne away.
Summer Thorne remained silent the entire time. It wasn't until she was settled in her own car that she said to the staff member who had escorted her, "Thank you. Could you call a designated driver for me?"
The staff member was well-trained. "Of course. Please wait a moment."
Summer Thorne murmured in acknowledgment, then curled up in the back seat, wrapping her shawl around herself, too tired to move.
She hadn't been feeling well to begin with, and she'd been drinking. Now she felt dreadfully drowsy, and leaning back, she fell asleep.
She didn't know how much time had passed before someone knocked on her car window. Summer Thorne slowly opened her eyes and saw a young designated driver.
She passed him the car keys, gave him the address, and closed her eyes once more.
The car started quickly and pulled out of the parking lot.
However, they hadn't gone far before Summer Thorne suddenly realized the car had stopped.
"Mrs. Crawford, it seems your car has broken down," the driver told her.
Summer Thorne opened her eyes again.
It was a quiet, tree-lined road. The trees on both sides were now just bare branches. Warm-colored streetlights hung high above, illuminating the flurries of white snow.
'It's snowing again.'
The driver called her name a few times before Summer Thorne came back to her senses. "Oh. Well, you can go then. I won't keep you. I'll call for roadside assistance myself."
The driver looked more than happy to oblige. He grabbed his electric scooter and took off in a flash.
The world suddenly fell silent. It felt as if she and the broken-down car were the only things left between heaven and earth.
'In a situation like this... it would be strange if something *didn't* happen.'
Just as Summer Thorne was thinking this, she heard the RUMBLE of engines approaching from a distance, gradually coming to a stop around her car.
Several black motorcycles formed a circle around her car. Seven or eight motley-looking men on the bikes took off their helmets and charged straight for her vehicle.
They started BANGING on the locked doors and windows. Summer Thorne's head was pounding, and she couldn't help but close her eyes.
'This scene, fitting so perfectly with tonight's breaking news, had all the trappings of karmic retribution. She wondered who could have orchestrated it.'
Seeing that the doors and windows were locked and that they couldn't see inside, the men turned on their phone flashlights and shined them in.
There was indeed only one woman in the car. But she was pale, her eyes were shut tight, and she sat rigidly, completely motionless.
"Holy shit! You don't think she's dead, do you?"
"Even if she's dead, I'm gonna see what she looks like!"
As he spoke, one of them picked up a rock from the grassy roadside and hurled it directly at the car window.
The window cracked on impact, showering Summer Thorne's lap with shattered glass, but she still didn't move.
One of them cautiously reached a hand through the broken window, about to check if she was breathing—
Just then, a brilliant white light shot out from behind them, accompanied by a piercing honk that seemed to startle the swirling snowflakes into chaos.
The men all jumped. They turned to see a black sedan that had pulled up close without them noticing.
After getting a clear look at the license plate, one of them paled. Without a word, he quickly signaled to the others. They scrambled onto their bikes and fled in a swarm.
The world was peaceful once more. White snow drifted down, blanketing the two cars, one parked behind the other.
The next moment, the black car's door opened. A man holding an umbrella got out and walked slowly forward.
Summer Thorne opened her eyes again to see a pair of long, slender-knuckled hands emerge from beneath a dark gray Chesterfield coat. The hands gently pulled her car door open and then reached out to her—
Summer Thorne slowly lifted her gaze. Beneath the edge of the umbrella, Timothy York's handsome features were focused only on her.
Summer Thorne was in a daze.
'Why does it have to be him again?'
'But... him being here... maybe that's not so bad?'
While her thoughts were still adrift, Summer Thorne had already reached out her hand, as if by instinct.
Her slender, pale hand was burning hot as it fell into the man's warm, dry palm. He led her out of the car.
An umbrella shielded them from the falling snow.
The black canopy, the wooden handle... its gentle, clean scent seemed familiar.
"Thank you, Mr. York."
Summer Thorne looked up at him, her eyes glistening.
But as soon as the words left her lips, her eyes suddenly closed. She tilted forward uncontrollably and fell into the man's arms.
Her body was burning up.