I Played Dead, He Went Mad

For three years, I thought my husband was just too busy with work.

Until late one night, I stumbled upon a file on his tablet titled The Mental Deterioration Plan.

High-frequency noise in the dead of night, slow-acting sedatives mixed into my aromatherapy candles. Step by step, he was driving me insane.

He stole my father's life's work, forced me to my knees in the ruins of my childhood home, all to clear the name of the real killer.

But he had no idea. Every single pill he forced me to swallow was hidden under my tongue. Every manic episode was just an act.

By the time he thought I had drowned myself in the ocean, I was standing on a stage in Paris, wearing a hearing aid, accepting the highest honor in international design.

Everything they took from me, I will take back ten times over.

Summer's POV

I got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. Passing the study, I noticed Ethan's tablet screen glowing on the desk.

He hadn't locked it. The screen was open to a hidden folder he had just viewed.

I went to turn it off for him, but the moment my fingers hovered over the screen, my heart stopped.

"Summer's Mental Deterioration Plan."

Below it were the step-by-step instructions:

"2:00 AM C 4:00 AM: Activate the high-frequency acoustic device in the attic to induce auditory hallucinations."

"Monday, Wednesday, Friday: Infuse bedroom aromatherapy with slow-acting neurotoxins to disrupt memory retention."

At the very bottom, the digital signature read: Ethan.

Standing in the chill of the air conditioning, my fingertips went completely numb.

I tapped deeper into the folder and found saved chat logs between Ethan and Chloe.

Chloe: "The cathedral is almost finished, but Summer still holds the intellectual property rights. If she ever snaps out of it and sues me for plagiarism..."

Ethan's reply: "Don't worry. I've already drafted the transfer agreement. As soon as the gala ends, I'll have her sign it. After that, the cathedral belongs to you."

Ethan added: "Summer is heavily medicated. Her brain is mush. Getting her to sign will be child's play."

I stared at the screen, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the edge of the desk.

That cathedral was my father Charles's lifelong dream.

He had drawn tens of thousands of drafts for that building. I was the one who went with him to get his signature stamp made.

But three months ago, just as the cathedral was nearing completion, my father was publicly accused of plagiarism.

A man who had spent his entire life building an honorable reputation leaped from the top floor of the half-finished cathedral in utter humiliation. He died on impact.

Ethan was convinced my father had pushed his younger sister, Lily, into the ocean to drown years ago.

So Ethan married me. He showered me with affection, only to poison me and set a trap.

It was all a sick game of revenge for his sister, designed to slowly drive the entire family to our graves.

But he didn't know the truth.

Lily hadn't been pushed by my father. She had been pushed by Chloe to cover up the fact that Chloe had stolen my father's original blueprints.

Now, they didn't just want to steal my father's legacy and win the gold award with his designs.

Tomorrow, they wanted to strip me of the property rights forever.

A sudden, violent spasm hit my stomach.

I leaned against the desk, bent double, and dry-heaved violently.

The pain curled me into a ball on the floor, my fingers clawing at the gaps in the hardwood.

I pulled so hard that one of my fingernails snapped in half, blood pooling on the floor.

But I couldn't feel the physical pain.

My mind was flooded with the image of my father's broken body on the concrete.

And the image of Ethan's fake, tender smile as he held me every night, coaxing me to take those "calming pills."

He drove my father to suicide!

He locked me up like a madwoman!

The man who poisoned me day after day was the husband I had loved for three years!

The sound of the front door unlocking echoed from downstairs.

Ethan was home.

I stared at the door, my fingers trembling.

Moving as fast as I could, I plugged a flash drive into the tablet and copied every single byte of data.

Then, I wiped the screen, placed the tablet back in its exact position, and made sure there wasn't a single trace of it being moved.

I pulled two tiny, flesh-colored earplugs from my pocket.

They were high-grade noise-canceling plugs I used to use. They could block out almost all external sound.

I pushed them deep into my ear canals.

The world went instantly quiet. Only the heavy, ragged sound of my own breathing remained.

The study door opened. Ethan walked in, dressed in a sharp black suit. His expression was soft.

But when he saw me collapsed on the floor, a cold flicker passed through his eyes.

"Summer? Why are you sitting on the floor in the dark?" Ethan rushed over, kneeling down to grab my freezing hands.

The moment his skin touched mine, goosebumps erupted all over my body.

I wanted to rip his lying face to shreds. I wanted to scream at him and demand why he murdered my father.

But I forced the hatred down.

I knew that if I fought back now, I would never get the blueprints back. I wouldn't even make it out of this house alive.

I had to play the part of a completely broken, insane woman.

"Ethan..."

I let him pull me into his chest. My body shook violently as I let my tears spill onto his sleeve.

"The noise is back. There are bugs crawling in my brain, eating me from the inside. Ethan, am I really going crazy?"

I cried, burying my face in his chest, my fingers tearing at his white shirt. The blood from my broken nail left a dark red smear across his clean fabric.

Ethan gently stroked my back. His touch was soft, like he was petting a favorite toy.

"It's okay, Summer. It's just hallucinations. You've been under too much stress lately."

His voice was deep, dripping with fake concern.

But I knew the truth. At this very moment, the high-frequency transmitter in the attic was blasting at maximum volume.

Ethan was watching me lose my mind, completely cold-blooded.

"Here, take your medicine. You'll feel better after a nap."

Ethan pulled out a small white bottle, tapped out a blue capsule, and handed me a glass of warm water.

I stared at the blue capsule.

The slow-acting poison meant to rot my brain.

Without hesitation, I washed it down with the water. But as the capsule slid past my teeth, I used the tip of my tongue to wedge it firmly into the pocket of my cheek.

"Good girl."

Ethan ran his fingers through my hair, a flash of smug amusement in his eyes.

"Let's get you to bed. Tomorrow, I'm taking you to the design awards. Chloe is winning the gold, and she needs her best friend there to support her."

Supporting the woman who murdered my father. He really knew how to twist the knife.

I lowered my head, letting my long hair hide the burning rage in my eyes.

"Okay," I whispered obediently.

Summer's POV

Once Ethan was sure I was calm, he left the room with a few reassuring words.

I bolted to the bathroom. The second the lock clicked, I threw myself over the toilet.

I shoved my fingers down my throat, my nails scraping against the raw flesh of my tonsils.

I gagged violently, tears streaming down my face.

Finally, the blue capsule, slick with saliva and stomach acid, splashed into the bowl.

The blue coating had already begun to dissolve, releasing a bitter, chemical stench.

Staring at the dissolving pill, my entire body shook.

If I had swallowed it tonight, I would have been a stuttering, mindless shell of a human by tomorrow morning.

Ethan wanted me crazy. I didn't have time to grieve. I had to transfer the cathedral's intellectual property immediately.

I flushed the toilet, watching the poison swirl away.

I grit my teeth and looked up at the mirror.

My face was ghostly pale, my eyes bloodshot, and a smear of dried blood stained the corner of my mouth.

I closed my eyes and practiced a vacant, twitchy smile.

Only when my reflection looked exactly like a textbook psychiatric patient did I open the door and step back out.

In the bedroom, Ethan was standing by the nightstand.

He held a white ceramic jar, lighting the aromatherapy candle with a match.

Seeing me enter, he blew out the match and waved me over. "Summer, I had this special lavender blend made just for you. It'll cure your headache."

I walked over. The thick, sweet scent of lavender filled the air.

But beneath the floral notes was a faint, metallic tang, like rotting fish.

The slow-acting neurotoxin. The chemical designed to destroy my nervous system.

"It smells wonderful, Ethan."

I leaned meekly into his chest, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath of the tainted air.

Ethan stroked my back, his hand moving like he was petting a dying cat.

But I could feel his body tensing. He was watching my face, waiting for the reaction.

I let my head slide onto his shoulder, letting my eyes glaze over before slowly closing them.

"Ethan... I'm so sleepy. I'm going to close my eyes for a bit..." I mumbled, letting my limbs go limp as I drifted onto the mattress.

"Sleep, sweetheart. I'm right here." Ethan lifted my legs onto the bed and pulled the duvet over me.

He sat by the edge of the bed for a few minutes. Once he was certain I was dead to the world, he stood up, switched off the lights, and quietly slipped out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, my eyes snapped open.

They were sharp, clear, and completely alert.

Ethan had no idea that I had secretly swapped the poisoned wax in that jar with pure, organic lavender wax weeks ago.

I slipped out of bed and reached into the deepest corner of my closet, pulling out a hidden burner phone.

I dialed a number.

The line rang once before a gravelly, older voice answered. "Summer?"

"Robert, it's me," I whispered, my voice cold as ice.

"My father's reputation is gone. I can't let them take the last thing he left behind."

Robert was my father's most trusted legal counsel.

"Summer, are you sure about this? If you secretly transfer the patent rights and Ethan finds out, he will ruin you." Robert's voice was thick with worry.

I gripped the phone, my knuckles aching. "I don't have a choice."

I spat the words through my teeth. "Ethan is going to force me to sign the cathedral over to Chloe tomorrow. I have to move every single design patent into my father's offshore private trust before he can touch them."

"Understood. I'll handle it immediately. It'll be done within two hours. But Summer... what are you going to do tomorrow?"

I didn't answer. I silently hung up the phone.

I turned my head and looked at the closet, where the white gown Ethan had chosen for me hung.

In the pale moonlight filtering through the window, the dress looked like a shroud.

I closed my eyes and lay back down in the dark.

Summer's POV

The next morning, Ethan woke me up early.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his voice tender. "Morning, Summer. Time to get dressed."

I sat up obediently.

Ethan walked to the closet, opened the doors, and pulled out the white gown.

A few minutes later, I stood in front of the vanity mirror in the dressing room, my back arched as I struggled to reach the zipper.

A pair of warm hands covered mine from behind, smoothly taking the metal clasp from my fingers.

Ethan stared at my reflection in the mirror, a faint smile on his lips.

His movements were light, his fingers brushing against my spine as he slowly pulled the zipper up.

The dress was a fraction too tight. As the metal teeth scraped against my skin, my body instinctively tensed, a small shiver running down my back.

Ethan placed his hands on my shoulders, parting my long hair to one side.

He leaned down, pressing his face against my neck. His warm breath fanned across my cold skin, his voice as gentle as always.

"Summer, today is a big day. If the reporters ask you anything, just say exactly what we practiced yesterday, okay?"

The tone was the same one you'd use to coax a difficult child. It made my blood run cold.

I stared blankly at his reflection. "Okay."

Half an hour later, I was led into the grand hall of the International Design Awards.

The red carpet was swarming with media. The flashing lights were blinding.

Chloe, dressed in a stunning gold gown, was holding the trophy that belonged to my family. She smiled radiantly for the cameras.

When she saw Ethan leading me inside, she picked up her skirt and walked over, grabbing my hand.

She leaned in close, whispering venomously in my ear, "A brain-dead bitch belongs in an asylum. But I have to thank you. Even as a cripple, you still had to crawl out today to hand me my trophy."

I heard every single word.

My eyes remained vacant, but I bit the inside of my cheek until the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

Ethan kept his arm wrapped around my waist, his posture protective and doting. To anyone else, he looked like the ultimate devoted husband.

With this sickeningly sweet display, he guided me toward a row of microphones.

The cameras focused on us instantly.

Ethan leaned down, his voice a warm whisper in my ear. "Tell the press that the cathedral design was just a manic scribble you did, and that Chloe completed it entirely on her own. Apologize to her, Summer. Be a good girl."

I looked at the reporters eagerly waiting, then at Chloe's smug, triumphant grin.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them, they were wide with pure, unadulterated terror.

"Ah!"

I let out a blood-curdling shriek and violently slammed my hands forward, knocking the heavy microphone stand into the press row.

The metal stand crashed onto the marble floor, causing the speakers to erupt in a deafening screech of feedback.

"Bugs! There are bugs biting me!"

I flailed my arms wildly, my palm connecting with Chloe's face in a brutal, resounding slap!

SMACK!

The force of the blow was massive.

Chloe stumbled back several steps and collapsed onto the floor, the gold trophy flying from her hands and shattering into two pieces.

"Summer! What the hell are you doing?!"

Ethan's face twisted in horror as he reached out to grab me.

I ducked under his arms, screaming as I ran toward the massive promotional banner on the stage. I clawed at the fabric, ripping Chloe's face to shreds with my fingernails.

"Red bugs! They're crawling out of the blueprints! They're eating my dad's brain!"

I howled, digging my nails deep into my own face and neck, leaving red welts across my skin.

Blood trickled down my collarbone, staining the chest of my pristine white gown.

The entire venue erupted into chaos. Screams and shutter clicks filled the air.

"Don't let them bite me! Ethan, save me!"

I threw myself into Ethan's arms, my body convulsing as I forced white foam to bubble at the corners of my mouth.

Ethan held me tight, rubbing my back, his face filled with panic and concern.

But from an angle no one else could see, a brief flash of relief washed over his eyes.

He truly believed I had finally lost it.

"I'm incredibly sorry, everyone. My wife's condition has flared up. Please excuse us," Ethan announced coldly. He scooped up my shaking body and marched out of the venue.

The camera flashes strobed wildly behind us.

I lay limp against Ethan's shoulder, my warm blood soaking into the fabric of his white shirt.

Over his shoulder, I stared coldly at the shattered gold trophy lying on the red carpet.

Summer's POV

Ethan brought me back to the estate that night.

A private doctor treated the scratches on my neck and face.

Once the door was locked, I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling until dawn.

The next afternoon, hearing Ethan's footsteps downstairs, I slowly dragged myself out of bed.

I messed up my hair, tore at the collar of my pajamas to expose the fresh bandages on my shoulder, and made myself look as utterly broken as possible.

Only then did I walk downstairs, bare feet padding softly on the stairs, mimicking a sleepwalker.

Ethan was sitting on the living room sofa.

As I reached the landing, I heard Chloe's soft, whimpering voice.

"Ethan, I don't blame Summer. She's sick. It's not her fault she hit me."

Chloe sat on the sofa, holding an ice pack to her swollen cheek. "I'm just worried that if she stays like this, it'll delay the progress on the West District Theater..."

Ethan poured her a glass of warm water, his tone dripping with sympathy. "You're too soft-hearted."

I took that cue to walk down the last few steps, my eyes vacant, my hair a wild mess.

Seeing me, Chloe instinctively shrunk back behind Ethan.

Then, she stood up with the glass of hot water and walked toward me. "Summer, you're awake? Here, have some water."

Just as I reached out, Chloe's wrist violently jerked. The boiling water splashed directly onto the raw, freshly scabbed wounds on my knees.

"Ah!"

Chloe stumbled back, looking horrified. "I'm so sorry! My foot slipped... I didn't mean to."

As she retreated, the sharp heel of her stiletto came down hard on my right hand, pinning it to the floor. She pressed directly onto the cracked, broken fingernail.

A blinding white pain shot up my arm. I clamped my jaw shut, my entire body violently trembling.

Ethan rushed over. He didn't check on me. Instead, he guided a trembling Chloe back to the sofa before turning to me.

He grabbed my bleeding hand, pulling me up. He didn't call for a doctor. Instead, he locked his fingers around my shoulders and dragged me to my feet.

His touch was still gentle, but his grip was like iron, locking me in place.

"Summer, what you did at the gala yesterday was wrong. You hurt Chloe. Good girls don't do that."

Ethan smiled, using his thumb to wipe away the tears of pain spilling from my eyes. His gentle voice made my stomach turn.

"When we do something wrong, we have to apologize. Apologize to Chloe."

I froze, staring at him in disbelief. "You want me to apologize to her?"

"Just say you're sorry, and we can put this behind us."

"No!" I rasped.

Ethan's face darkened. He forced his weight down on my shoulders, slowly pushing my body down toward the sofa where Chloe sat.

His massive palms held me in a vice grip, forcing my knees to slam onto the cold hardwood floor.

The scabs on my knees split wide open. The pain made my vision go black.

Suffocating under the humiliation, I dug my nails into my bleeding palm. I forced my head down, grit my teeth, and whispered, "I'm... sorry..."

Only then did Ethan let go.

He used a silk handkerchief to wipe the blood from his hands, then picked up a yellow hard hat from the table and handed it to me. His voice was warm again.

"Since you've apologized, I need you to do something for me. Go to the West District Theater and get the acoustic readings."

I stared blankly at the yellow hard hat before reaching out to take it.

As long as Chloe needed it, Ethan wouldn't hesitate to squeeze every last drop of value out of me.

Because everyone knew that only my ears could detect the most precise acoustic frequencies.

Twenty minutes later, at the West District Theater construction site.

The empty, concrete shell of the building was freezing. The wind howled through the open window frames.

The moment I stepped into the subterranean acoustic testing room, the heavy steel door behind me slammed shut. The sound of a deadbolt sliding into place echoed through the chamber.

I spun around. Through the double-paned acoustic glass, I saw Chloe standing on the other side.

She held the control cables in her hand, a twisted, vicious grin on her face.

"Summer, that slap from yesterday? It's time to pay it back."

In the center of the testing room stood a massive high-frequency decibel transmitter.

Chloe laughed coldly as she slammed her palm onto the console, twisting the frequency dial all the way into the red zone.

SCREECH.

A piercing, high-frequency wail exploded inside the sealed concrete room.

The sound felt like a white-hot iron needle driving straight through my ear canal and piercing my brain.

I collapsed to the floor, clutching my ears as cold sweat drenched my back.

The sound was everywhere, bouncing off the concrete walls, vibrating through my skull, literally tearing at my eardrums.

Warm, sticky fluid began to seep through my fingers.

Blood splattered onto the cold concrete.

As the world around me dissolved into a terrifying, silent void, my vision darkened, and I passed out.

When I finally opened my eyes, the smell of sterile bleach filled my nose.

I lay motionless on the hospital bed, staring blankly.

The door clicked open, then locked from the inside.

A man in a sharp grey overcoat walked over to the bed.

He had incredibly dark, deep eyes. It was Christian, Ethan's ultimate rival in the business world.

He bent down, looking at me. "Stop acting. I know you're not entirely deaf, and I know you're not crazy."

I didn't move. I didn't even blink.

Christian let out a low chuckle. "Don't be scared. Your dear husband ruined your father for a mistress. You want survival, and I want power. We share the same enemy."

He leaned in close to my ear, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I can fix your ears. I can get you out of the country safely, and I can even stage a fake death for you."

"The price? Give me the evidence that Ethan stole your father's designs."

I opened my eyes and looked at him. I had already lost everything. I was on the verge of losing my hearing entirely.

There was nothing left to fear.

"Deal," I rasped, my throat raw.

Summer's POV

After Christian left, I lay on the hospital bed.

I thought I would just wait for his plan to unfold and slip away quietly.

But the next morning, the burner phone on my bedside table buzzed.

An unknown number had sent me a video.

I tapped it open.

In the video, a massive excavator was smashing into a red-brick estate. The walls crumbled into dust. That was my father's life's work, his personal archive and memorial.

In the bottom right corner of the frame, a woman's hand, wearing a diamond bracelet, was wrapped around Ethan's arm. It was Chloe.

Then, a text message popped up:

How tragic. The home you cherished so much is gone.

My brain short-circuited.

I didn't care about the IV drip in my hand. I yanked it out violently, tearing the skin.

Blood splattered onto my hospital gown.

I didn't even put on shoes. I ran out of the hospital barefoot.

By the time I stumbled onto the gravel driveway of the estate, the archive was mostly rubble. Only a single red-brick archway remained, standing lonely amidst the ruins.

I tried to charge past the gates like a madwoman, but two security guards tackled me, pinning me into the sharp gravel.

"Let me go!"

The jagged stones sliced into my knees, blood quickly soaking through my gown.

Ethan stood a few feet away, dressed in a flawless black suit, holding a black umbrella.

Chloe clung to his arm, giggling behind her hand.

Pinned under the guards, I forced my head up, glaring at him with wild, bloodshot eyes.

"Ethan! Tell them to stop! That is my father's only legacy! He didn't plagiarize anything! He was framed!"

Ethan walked over slowly, stopping just out of reach.

His leather shoes were splattered with mud. He frowned slightly, then knelt down, gently peeling my bleeding fingers off his trousers.

"Summer, the ground is dirty. Get up, okay?"

He brushed the dust off my shoulders, his voice soft, but his eyes were completely dead.

I fell to my knees in the rubble, slamming my forehead against the sharp stones.

"I'm begging you! Ethan, please!"

I threw away every ounce of my dignity, pounding my head against the ground. "Make them stop! His brushes are in there, his photos... please..."

My forehead split open, blood and dirt smearing across my face.

Ethan stood over me, holding his umbrella, looking at my bloody face with a flash of disgust.

"Summer, stop this. You look like a lunatic."

His voice was still gentle, but it was devoid of any human warmth. "Your father is dead. What's the point of keeping this trash?"

Chloe sneered from the side. "Exactly, Summer. Even if you keep it, you can't protect it."

My nails dug into the dirt until they bled.

Seeing the excavator crane rise again, I broke down completely. I crawled to Ethan's feet, grabbing his ankles, sobbing hysterically.

"I'll sign the papers! I'll give up everything! It all belongs to Chloe! Just... don't let them demolish the rest... please..."

Ethan looked down at me, a look of smug satisfaction finally washing over his face.

He bent down, using his handkerchief to wipe the blood from my forehead. "See? If you had been this good from the start, we wouldn't be here. Sign this, and I'll leave the archway standing."

He shoved a waiver of inheritance and a pen into my bloodied hand.

My hand shook uncontrollably.

The blood dripping from my broken nail dragged a thick, red streak across the signature line.

I thought that by dragging myself through the dirt, I could save the last piece of my father.

I handed the paper back, trembling.

Ethan took the document, verified the signature, and tossed it to his secretary.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice dripping with mock affection.

But a second later, he stood up, turned his back on the archway, and said to the foreman, "This structure is a safety hazard. Level it."

My pupils shrunk to pinpricks. A primal scream ripped from my throat: "Ethan."

CRASH!

The heavy iron wrecking ball smashed into the red-brick archway, turning my father's final legacy into a pile of generic dust.

Ethan wrapped his arm around Chloe, turned on his heel, and got into the waiting black town car.

The car roared to life, splashing mud all over my hospital gown as it sped away.

I collapsed into the muddy gravel, staring at the debris. My eyes were bloodshot, devoid of tears.

I crawled forward, inch by inch, using my blood-slicked right hand to clutch a single broken red brick.

I pressed my face against the cold stone, imagining it was my father's warm hand.

I remembered him holding my hand, teaching me how to draw.

I remembered the last words he said to me before he jumped: I'm sorry, Summer.

Now, everything was gone.

Clutching the brick, the tears finally spilled over.

I lay in the ruins, and then, I began to laugh hysterically.

"Ethan... you really are a monster!"

Summer's POV

I don't remember how I got back to the estate.

I only remember the private doctor using tweezers to pick the gravel and dirt out of my open wounds one by one.

A week later, the cuts on my knees had scabbed over.

Ethan tossed a pair of white silk stockings and a heavy wool trench coat onto the bed.

He reached out, his fingers tracing my cheek. "Tonight is the joint venture gala. It's on a yacht in international waters. Behave yourself, don't act crazy, and I'll let you enjoy the ocean breeze."

But the moment we boarded the yacht, every step up the stairs tore my fresh scabs open.

Thick blood soaked through the white stockings, making me break into a cold sweat from the pain.

Ethan's hand tightened around my shoulder, his grip tight enough to bruise my bones. He whispered in my ear, "We have international investors here tonight. If you act up, I will throw you straight into a psychiatric facility."

I let him drag me into the shadows of the ballroom.

Across the room, Chloe, clad in a custom designer gown, was holds a glass of champagne, laughing with the elite.

The crowd surrounded her, praising her as the architectural genius behind the modern cathedral.

Meanwhile, I was discarded in the darkest corner of the room.

I hadn't had a drop of water since yesterday.

My empty stomach twisted in pain, and I had to pinch the flesh of my thigh hard just to stay conscious.

I was waiting for midnight.

The time Christian and I had agreed upon.

Right now, in the blind spot of the yacht's security cameras, jumping into the black ocean was my only way out. My only chance to escape Ethan forever.

The clock on the wall finally struck twelve.

I stood up, using the wall for support.

I moved slowly, making sure not to draw any attention.

Amidst the clinking glasses and loud laughter, I pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped onto the deck.

It was pitch black outside. The ocean wind cut through my clothes like knives, making me cough violently. I gripped the railing. Below me, the black waves of the open sea churned violently.

I unbuttoned the wool coat, took it off, and folded it neatly, placing it on the deck.

I shed the coat, and I slid off my wedding ring, placing it on top.

I was going to leave the broken, tortured version of Summer on this boat forever.

To Ethan, this would look like a desperate suicide. But to me, it was the first day of my life.

I climbed over the iron railing, standing on the narrow ledge over the abyss.

"Summer! What the hell are you doing?!"

Ethan's panicked roar shattered the wind behind me.

I turned my head. Ethan was sprinting toward me, his hands outstretched.

His eyes were bloodshot, his voice trembling in the wind. "Get down from there. Who said you could stand there?"

I looked at him, and for the first time in three years, a genuine, beautiful smile crossed my face.

I pulled the flesh-colored earplugs from my ears, tossed them into the black sea, and spoke, my voice raspy but clear.

"Ethan. We're even."

Just as his fingers brushed the hem of my dress, I leaned backward, falling into the dark water below.

"Summer."