Chapter 3
As Charles rushed to my side, dawn was breaking, casting a soft light over the world.
The night had been long, with the hospital's stretcher beds moving in and out of rooms, the last one settling in the ICU.
I sat there, eyes red and raw, perched on a cold chair, too anxious to even blink.
It was not until the morning light crept in that I noticed my phone was dead.
When I finally reached Charles, the relief in his voice was palpable.
"Summer, where have you been?!
"I've been outside the factory waiting for you, but after everyone had gone, you were nowhere to be seen."
His voice felt miles away, yet its worry could not have been closer.
Charles did not take long to get there.
He wrapped his arms around me, patted me on my back, and whispered, "Don't worry, I'm here."
The sharp smell of alcohol was gone, replaced by the subtle scent of a fresh shower.
"Summer, I'll earn more," he promised. "Believe me, we'll turn things around soon."
I watched him, silent, not buying into his act.
He noticed, his frown deepening as he searched my face for the trust that used to be there.
Suddenly, nausea hit me like a wave, and I pulled away, dashing for the bathroom.
…
Charles kept telling me to rest, but I could not afford to do that.
Life was not a game for me, unlike it seemed to be for him.
I was fighting a real battle at rock bottom, and stopping was not an option.
I spent days bouncing between the hospital and work, keeping my distance from Charles, hoping he would tire of that charade.
He knew something was up, but he mistook my distance for worry over my dad.
So, he doubled down on being caring and patient.
His lips brushed my forehead with a gentle kiss, whispering promises that things would look up soon.
However, that night, as I was at my job as a designated driver for hire...
The man who had just an hour before confessed his longing for me over the phone had stumbled into the backseat, drunk, with the careful support of an elegant and stunning woman.
She caught my eye in the rearview mirror, effortlessly tossing out an address in the ritzy part of town.
A chill ran through me.
The Maserati cut through the night like a shadow.
She snuggled up to the man, who was feigning rest, caressing his face with a playful pout. "If I hadn't come for you, would you have bothered to come home at all?
"Or have you really fallen for that other woman?"
Silence fell like a heavy curtain.
He swallowed, his throat bobbing slightly.
I was sure he would not respond.
However, with his eyes still shut, he pulled at his collar and casually said, "It's nothing serious."
My heart twisted in pain.
It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing the life out of me.
She laughed, clearly pleased with herself.
"That's a relief. Remember, we're engaged."
She shot me a loaded glance and pressed her lips to his.
I could only listen, my face a blank mask, as soft moans drifted from the backseat.
Tears dampened my face covering.
At last, we arrived at a grand villa.
Leaning on my scooter in the cool night air, I watched as the waiting staff escorted Charles inside.
The woman lingered, eyeing me with a half-smile.
"Summer Lennon, right?
"You did well today. I've tipped you triple the asking rate."
My hands balled into fists, and my whole body felt ice-cold.
It was apparent then—she had asked for a driver with me in mind.
"Do you know why he picked you?
"It wasn't because you were special.
"It was because you never glanced sideways or slowed down while working at the car wash. Charles wanted to win you over.
"In other words, you're just a plaything.
"To us, you're less than a servant."
Her words sliced through my pride, leaving me in tatters.
Frozen, I was overwhelmed by a tidal wave of humiliation and absurdity.
I did not know how long I had stood there.
Then, a call from the hospital snapped me back to reality.
I jumped on my electric scooter, speeding away from the worst day of my life.
My dad, barely able to speak, had asked about Charles.
He had hoped Charles would look after me.
Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head fiercely.
All I wanted was my dad.
I pleaded with him not to leave me.
I was furious with myself for not seeing Charles for who he was, for not treasuring the moments with my dad, and for wasting time on a lowlife.
Why did I arrogantly give half of the money meant for my dad's treatment to Charles, the big spender, denying my dad the care he needed?
Beside his bed, I cried my heart out, filled with regret.
My phone would not stop ringing.
Charles's voice, full of excitement, came through.
"Summer, I've raised 15,000 dollars!
"Mr. Lennon is going to be alright!"
Blinded by tears, my resentment surged.
I cut him off, shouting his name with all the bitterness I could muster.
"Charles, just stop.
"Take your 15,000 dollars and get out of my life."
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