Summer had been Trevor’s fiancée—and his most devoted admirer. She loved him for five years, but no matter how much warmth she gave, his heart remained cold. Then came the kidnapping. Trevor’s voice was filled with impatience. “Summer, Peyton is sick. Her dying wish is to marry me. If you think a kidnapping will make me leave her, you’re wasting your time.” The kidnapper pressed a knife against Summer’s pale neck. “Sir, 30 million for her ransom. Yes or no?” Trevor sneered. “No.” That was the moment Summer’s heart completely died. She gritted her teeth and said, word by word, “From now on, we’re done.” Trevor didn’t believe it. A woman who loved him this much—how could she possibly bear to leave? But then she blocked his number, turned her back without hesitation, and met every attempt at reconciliation with cold indifference—or a slap across the face. Regret consumed him. “Summer, I was wrong. If you come back to me, I’ll do anything…” But the response on the other end of the call wasn’t hers. A low, lazy, and amused chuckle came through the receiver. In a dimly lit bedroom, the powerful billionaire Fraser glanced at the sleeping woman beside him. Her pale skin was marked with traces of passion. His lips curled into a wicked smirk. “She’s mine now. Even if you die, it won’t change a thing.”
