Chapter 61: A Battle of Scars

“Summer, we need to talk.”

Summer looked at Peyton. Her long hair flowed behind her as she walked toward Summer. Summer hadn't intended to pay her any attention, but the kidnapping incident remained unresolved. If Margaret wasn't behind it, then Peyton was a strong suspect. Summer needed answers. Who had set her up?

“Alright,” Summer said, following Peyton back to her hospital room.

It was the exclusive VIP suite on the top floor—more accurately described as a five-star hotel suite. Luxurious, spotless, and spacious, it cost roughly a hundred thousand dollars a night. From what Summer knew, Peyton had been living there for over a year. Money was never a problem for her. After all, the Smith family was prestigious in Havenbrook, having built their fortune through branding and later expanding into luxury retail. Unlike the Stewart family, which owned a comprehensive chain of shopping malls.

But despite her privileged birth, Peyton was anything but fortunate. She was the illegitimate daughter of Bryson Smith, born to one of his mistresses, Maisie, a lowly KTV hostess with a past she probably couldn't even remember.

Years ago, when Maisie brought baby Peyton to confront Bryson, demanding recognition, it was a farce. A forced DNA test proved Peyton was his daughter, but the Smith family never accepted Maisie, especially since Bryson had a legal wife.

For over twenty years, Peyton had been utterly despised by the Smith family. Bryson's wife, in particular, had relentlessly tried to suppress her. Therefore, there was no doubt Trevor was paying for Peyton's luxurious hospital stay, meaning he had provided her with the best medical team, even while he was with Summer.

Summer cast a casual glance around the room. She had no intention of reminiscing with Peyton and got straight to the point. “Were the kidnappers that day sent by you?”

Peyton poured herself a cup of hot water, a smirk tinged with malicious glee playing on her lips. With a probing tone, she asked, “So… did they rape you? Are you… tainted now, Summer?”

Peyton had clearly heard Summer's desperate call for help at the wedding. Her instincts told her the kidnapping was real. After all, Summer had always been on the losing side throughout their years of intersecting paths.

Deep down, Summer was just as proud. Otherwise, how could Peyton have so effortlessly drawn Trevor away from her every single time?

On the day of the wedding, Peyton had played the game perfectly, retreating only to advance, saying exactly what she knew would unsettle Trevor.

“You don’t have a heart. So what if you were his girlfriend? It was a meaningless title. If I were you, I’d cut my losses and leave while I still had a shred of dignity. There’s no point making a fool of yourself any longer.”

If it had been a while ago, Summer might have wavered. But now, there was no love left in her for Trevor. And Peyton's attempts to provoke her were laughable. How had she ever let this woman's petty words cut so deep, keeping her awake night after night?

Summer’s expression remained cold: “I have no interest in wasting words with you. Just tell me—was it you?”

Peyton let out a derisive snort. “If anyone in this world wants you gone, it’s me. But do you really think I’d be stupid enough to stir up trouble on my own wedding day? Give you the perfect excuse to drag Trevor away? But judging by how disturbed you are, I bet the kidnappers actually got to you, didn’t they?”

The thought of Summer being raped seemed to ignite something in Peyton. Her expression lit up with twisted delight.

“Summer, you’re completely ruined now. No one will ever want you again. Tell me, how did it feel? How did it feel to be raped by a bunch of filthy criminals? Oh, I feel just so sorry for you.”

Summer stared at Peyton, watching her burst into maniacal laughter, studying every flicker of expression on her face. That day had been Peyton’s long-awaited wedding. If she had truly wanted to destroy Summer, she could have chosen any day but that day. Besides, Peyton had always loved playing the helpless victim in front of others.

But with Summer, there was no pretense. Peyton’s hatred burned openly, her hostility razor-sharp. If she wanted to destroy Summer, she wouldn’t resort to deception. She would do it outright, blade in hand. Peyton had no reason to lie.

Summer’s gaze dropped to the cup of steaming water in Peyton’s grasp. She instinctively took two steps back. Her hand was already injured; if that scalding water landed on her, she might as well be done for.

Then, she smiled. “Peyton, don’t celebrate too soon. You love Trevor so much, yet he never broke up with me for you. That only proves that, in his heart, you’re just as insignificant.”

The words struck Peyton like a blade to the heart. Yes, no matter how well Trevor had treated her over the years, he had never been willing to give her a title and acknowledge her.