Summer nodded enthusiastically, a bright smile plastered on her face. "Yep, humble. Honest. A real gem of a person."
But Tristan, having dealt with Dr. Lifeath through business, wasn't convinced. He set his coffee cup down with a soft clink, his lips curling into a skeptical smirk. "Are you sure we're talking about the same Dr. Lifeath?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "The one who barely acknowledges people unless it's absolutely necessary? The one who wouldn't even attend any of the summits and conferences and not even show up out of consideration, no matter how much money people offer?"
Summer was getting angry hearing such infuriating words of Tristan about her and she spat "How do you say all this, when you didn't even know if she's a woman?"
Tristan sensed her anger ,thought she's jealous, so he lied "I've heard all that about her," obviously he couldn't tell his girlfriend how he was extorted millions of dollars by that doctor, instead he asked "but why are you getting hyper in her stead?"
Summer softened her tone "It's not good to speak ill about people if we don't know them."
Tristan then again probed "So you know her on personal front? Are you guys friends?"
Summer's heart skipped a beat as she realized her own words were starting to betray her. She could practically feel herself digging a hole, and the more she spoke, the deeper it got. Time for a quick U-turn.
"Friends?" Summer interrupted herself, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, no. No, no, no." She waved her hand dismissively, leaning back in her chair with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "We're not friends. Dr. Lifeath was kind to me because I helped her once, but after that…" She gave a disdainful snort. "She turned into a total snooty, arrogant bitch."
Tristan blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in tone. "Wait… what?"
"Yeah," Summer continued, warming up to her new narrative. "At first, I thought we might actually become friends. You know, like I saved her life, she'd be grateful. But no." She threw her hands up in mock exasperation. "Instead, she threw cash in my face. Like, literally threw money at me as a 'thanks.' Generosity, my ass."
Tristan's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he tried to stifle a laugh. "You're kidding."
"I'm not!" Summer exclaimed, shaking her head, her hands gesturing animatedly. "She's outrageously audacious. Sure, she's got beauty and brains, but don't even get me started on her behavior. It's like she thinks she's above everyone. Just talking about it makes my blood boil." She paused for effect, then added with a smirk, "And don't get me started on poor Wayne. I've seen him get beaten up by her—verbally and maybe even physically." Ughh...how can a person berate her own self...my life's such a pity! Well I didn't really lie about Wayne at least, Summer thought.
Tristan laughed, the sound deep and rich, leaning back in his chair. "Okay, okay," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "I get it. Sounds like she's a real piece of work."
Summer nodded vigorously, trying not to let her nerves show. "Exactly. So, yeah. We're not friends. I have no idea how she treats other people, but trust me, she's a handful."
Tristan sighed, shaking his head with a soft chuckle as Summer's description fit with his experience. He looked at Sam, his expression softening. "It's okay," he said, his voice gentle. "You don't need to be friends with someone like that. If she's ungrateful, that just makes her a lowly person. There's nothing you can do about it."
Summer nodded, doing her best to hide her nervousness as she smiled at him. "Yeah," she said, her voice quieter now, "nothing I can do about it."
Inside, though, she was breathing a massive sigh of relief. Somehow, she had managed to dodge that bullet. For now.
Their conversation was suddenly interrupted, much to Summer's relief when Tristan's phone buzzed on the table. His smile faded as he glanced at the screen, recognizing the number. With a sigh, he picked it up, answering with a curt, "Yeah?"
Summer watched him, her playful smile lingering as she sipped her coffee, but that smile slowly disappeared as she noticed the way his posture stiffened, and his free hand clenched into a fist on the table. His expression darkened, and a chill seemed to radiate from him.
"I see," Tristan said coldly into the phone. "Got it."
He ended the call abruptly, dropping his phone onto the table with a soft clink. Summer could almost feel the tension in the air, the chilly aura emanating from him making her eyebrow twitch.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice soft but probing. She didn't like seeing him like this—so serious, so… cold.
Tristan sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed in frustration. "Maria Belmont," he said through clenched teeth. "She managed to escape punishment. Her family—the damn Belmonts—helped her get out of it, making her assistant take the fall instead. There's no direct trail of payment from her to the traffickers. It's all clean. They claimed the assistant was furious at your for insulting her employer so she attempted avenging Maria this way."
Summer's smile disappeared instantly. She put down her coffee cup, her expression hardening. "That little rat, sure is loyal to her employer," she muttered, clearly upset by the news. "But of course, Maria'd have the Belmonts cover her tracks. It's not surprising."
Tristan was fuming, a cold fury emanating from him that sent a shiver down Summer's spine. His jaw was tight, his eyes sharp, and his entire demeanor screamed of restrained anger. "If she pulls something else," he growled, his voice low and menacing, "I won't even bother involving the police this time."
Sam's eyes flickered with a dark amusement. She leaned back in her chair, her lips curling into a smirk as she crossed her arms. "Don't worry," she said, her tone casual yet deadly serious. "If she tries anything again, I've got my gun ready. Just waiting for the trigger to be pulled."
Sam's eyes flickered with a dark amusement. She leaned back in her chair, her lips curling into a smirk as she crossed her arms. "Don't worry," she said, her tone casual yet deadly serious. "If she tries anything again, I've got my gun ready. Just waiting for the trigger to be pulled."
Trish blinked at her, at first thinking she was joking, trying to lighten the mood. But the look in her eyes told him otherwise—she wasn't kidding. She was dead serious. He didn't know whether to be impressed or a little worried. He settled for both, giving her a crooked smile. "I'll have to keep that in mind."
Just as the mood was starting to settle back into normalcy, Sam's phone pinged with a notification. She glanced at the screen, her eyes narrowing as she read the message. The change in her expression was immediate—her brow furrowed, lips tightening into a displeased scowl.
"What's the matter?" Trish asked, noticing her sudden shift in mood.
Sam let out a frustrated huff, glaring at her phone like it had personally insulted her. "I just received last month's car race rankings," she said, her tone laced with irritation. "And this bloody dark horse has broken my record. Just because I didn't race last month due to the whole drugging incident…" She muttered under her breath, clearly peeved. "Now, that guy's gone and shattered my record. It's infuriating!"
Trish froze, his body going rigid in his seat. The mention of dark horse was like a lightning bolt through his brain. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flickering toward Sam cautiously. Did she know? How could she not know?
He cleared his throat, trying to play it off coolly. "I didn't… do anything," he began, his tone tentative, his eyes carefully watching her reaction. "I just broke Little Turtle's long-standing record…."
The moment the words left his mouth, both of their eyes widened in shock. For a split second, time seemed to freeze as they stared at each other in disbelief.
"You're Dark Horse?"
"You're Little Turtle?"
They both exclaimed at the same time, their voices overlapping in a perfect chorus of exasperation.