Chapter 170 Summer Reaches Out Again
But just as I turned to leave, I heard footsteps behind me–Ryan was trying to follow.
“Don’t come any closer. I need some space.” My tone was calm but firm.
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His footsteps stopped. Then came his deep, low voice behind me. “Gabby, you are the only woman I’ve ever truly loved. Please… never doubt that.”
I didn’t respond. Just gave a slight nod, blinking fast against the sting in my eyes.
Then I turned and walked away, faster this time.
Back in the room, I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in the pillow.
Ryan kept telling me to stop obsessing over Vincent. To let the past, go.
But the more he insisted, the more I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I sat up slowly, pressing a hand to my forehead.
From the beginning, Ryan had once given me a clear answer about what really happened between Vincent and me.
And every time I brought Vincent up, Ryan’s reaction was always off.
Did that mean he wasn’t telling me the whole truth?
What exactly was he hiding?
And then there was that late–night conversation he had with Eric.
What did they talk about? Why did he disappear afterward?
And if it wasn’t something serious, why would he end up drunk at a bar… and run into Summer?
My thoughts spiraled, tangled and tight, until-
Just then, my phone buzzed.
I picked it up–and saw a message from the same unknown number that had contacted me before.
I knew immediately. It was her. Summer.
My fingers trembled as I opened the message, bracing myself for whatever mind game she was playing this time.
[Did you see the photos?]
My breath caught. Anger flared instantly.
So, it was her who sent them.
I typed back, fingers tight with fury:
[What’s your deal with those photos? Trying to stir up drama? How pathetic can you be?]
She replied almost immediately:
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< Chapter 170 Summer Reaches Out Again
[Drama? I’m just stating facts. The photos are real. It’s not like I photoshopped them.]
My jaw clenched.
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She had the audacity to take those photos while my husband was drunk–and now she was acting like she’d done nothing wrong?
I forced my tone to stay cold:
[Ryan was drunk. You took advantage of that. You staged those photos–trying to mess with my head. You really think I’d fall for that?]
Summer fired back immediately.
[If you truly didn’t care, why are you replying so fast? Come on, Gabrielle–just admit it. You’re upset. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be this worked up.]
My hand shook so badly I almost dropped my phone.
She wasn’t wrong. I was upset. Angry. Hurt.
I hated what those photos made me feel. Hated that they got to me at all.
As I struggled to figure out what to say next, another message came in:
[Don’t you find it strange? The day I asked you to meet me, we never told Ryan. Yet somehow, he showed up at the café not long after–like he knew exactly where you were. And he looked panicked.]
My heart skipped a beat. My fingers froze, and I stared at the screen.
And then–another message:
[Wasn’t he supposed to be at the law firm that day? Don’t you think… that’s a little too convenient?]
A cold chill ran through me, like someone had poured ice water down my back.
She was right. That day, we chose a quiet café on purpose. No one knew. Not even Nina. But Ryan showed up not long after I arrived.
Why?
Was he watching Summer?
Or… was he watching me?
My chest tightened, as if something invisible had wrapped itself around my lungs.
Then one final message came through:
[You’re a smart woman. Think about it. When you’re ready to hear the rest, come find me. I’ll be waiting.]
