Finished, he gave a slight nod, looked at no one else, and turned to leave the stage calmly, surrounded by assistants and bodyguards.

He left behind a hall full of uproar and two men whose faces were as gray as death.

Those words were nothing short of a public declaration of war. He had completely torn away their facade, nailing them to a pillar of shame for being ungrateful and incapable of telling right from wrong.

More importantly, he made it clear that his family would stand up for Summer and would never allow her to donate a lung.

Chapter Sixteen

The news spread through the entire social circle instantly as if it had grown wings.

When the markets opened the next day, the stock prices of both their companies plummeted, turning a deep red.

Partners began to wait and see, banks called in loans, and projects that had been progressing well fell through.

The biological brother didn't even need to use many tactics; he only had to state his stance, and countless people—wishing to curry favor with his family or take the opportunity to suppress the two families—acted on their own.

The brother was overwhelmed, dealing with the avalanche of crises at the company on one hand, and his mother’s daily tearful pleas and the dying girl’s weakening breath on the other.

He felt as though he were being roasted over a fire, with an abyss on either side.

He had to see the biological brother; he had to negotiate in person.

After much effort and a significant cost, he finally secured an opportunity to "talk privately." The meeting was set in the penthouse suite of the hotel where the biological brother was staying.

The brother arrived early and waited in the drawing room for nearly an hour before the biological brother finally arrived, accompanied by assistants and lawyers.

He didn't sit down, but simply stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the city’s night view, his silhouette tall and cold.

"Mr. Sterling," the brother spoke first, suppressing the agitation and humiliation in his heart, his tone humbler than ever before. "Regarding what happened before, I was a bastard, I was blind, and I wronged Summer. All the blame is mine; I'll accept whatever you do to my family. But Skylar... she is my biological sister after all, and she really is failing now. I beg you, show mercy and let Summer... let Miss Sterling save her life. As long as she is willing to donate, you can set any condition, and my family will not hesitate."

The biological brother turned slowly, his features appearing even sharper and colder under the ceiling lights. Behind him, two men who looked like lawyers had already opened their recording pens and laptops, clearly prepared.

"Any condition?" He curled his lips into a smile that held no warmth. "You are quite generous. Unfortunately, my sister’s life is not for trade."

"I didn't mean it that way!" The brother explained hurriedly. "I mean compensation! Compensation for Summer! For the past three years, and everything after... for the harm we caused her, we are willing to give everything to make amends! I only beg you to give her a message, to ask her—for the sake of... for the sake of the past twenty years of companionship—to save Skylar’s life. She is kind-hearted; she won't just stand by and watch someone die!"

"Kind-hearted?" The biological brother spoke as if he had heard a ridiculous joke, his eyes suddenly sharp as knives. "So because she is kind-hearted, she should be used by you? Should be sent to prison by you? Should have her hands destroyed by you? Should she unconditionally sacrifice herself when you need her lungs? Your logic is breathtakingly shameless."

"The companionship of the past twenty years?" He took a step forward, an invisible pressure surging forth. "You have the nerve to mention companionship? When you sent her to prison, did you think of companionship? When you watched her suffocate from an allergy, did you think of companionship? When you personally crushed her fingers, did you think of companionship?"

Every question was like a sharp slap to the brother's face.

"I..." The brother was speechless, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"Skylar’s life is a life, but my sister’s life is not?" His voice was bone-chilling. "Her health is poor; that allergy attack damaged her foundation, and she is still recovering. Do you not know the risks of transplant surgery and the many complications? You want her to give up half a lung for someone who repeatedly framed her and nearly killed her? There should be a limit to your dreaming."

"It's not half a lung, it's a lung lobe, modern medicine—" the brother tried to argue.

"I know as much about medical data as you do," he interrupted impatiently. "Risk is risk. Moreover, my sister herself has clearly stated that she is unwilling."

Looking at the brother's instantly ashen face, he spoke without any emotion: "I met you today not to hear your confession or to negotiate. I simply wanted to tell you to your face, and through you, tell everyone in your families—"

He spoke every word with absolute clarity:

"Skylar’s life or death has nothing to do with my sister. She does not need to, and will not, pay the price for your mistakes and that woman’s malice."

"Additionally, the acquisition of your company’s overseas business has already begun. This is just the start. Take care of yourselves."

With that, he didn't look at the brother again and signaled to his assistant: "Show him out."

The brother didn't know how he left that room or how he got downstairs.

The words were like the coldest sentence, cutting off all his hope.

Soft tactics, hard tactics, pleading, or threats—all were useless in the face of absolute strength and a cold attitude.

Standing on the bustling street watching the neon lights flicker, he felt a massive sense of powerlessness and despair for the first time.

Meanwhile, the childhood friend, after the shock of the truth and the public warning, fell into a different kind of madness.

He could not accept that Summer had simply vanished from his life. He used all his private connections, like the most obsessive detective, tracking any shred of a clue that might be related to her.

Finally, a hidden lead pointed to Switzerland.

Chapter Seventeen

The Sterling family had a secluded sanatorium there with an excellent environment, specializing in post-operative recovery and post-traumatic psychological intervention.

Without any hesitation, the childhood friend immediately booked the nearest flight to Zurich.

He didn't have a specific address, so he could only ask hotel by hotel and search block by block in that sanatorium district.

He held an old photo of Summer, using broken English and gestures to describe her to the locals.

On the evening of the third day, just as he was nearly in despair, he saw that figure he had been dreaming of on a quiet path by the lake.

The late afternoon sun dyed the lake water a golden red.

Summer sat in a wheelchair, covered with a soft blanket.

She was thinner than when she left, her cheeks slightly sunken, making her eyes appear larger but even more hollow. Her right hand was still bandaged and fixed in front of her. Her long eyelashes were lowered, casting a small shadow on her pale cheeks.

A man wearing a light gray cashmere sweater, with a cold and noble aura, was standing behind her, slowly pushing the wheelchair.

Occasionally, the man would lean down and whisper something in her ear. Summer would give an almost imperceptible nod or a very slight movement of the corners of her mouth.

The smile was very faint, almost invisible, but falling into the childhood friend's eyes, it was like a red-hot iron searing his heart.

Was that man... the "new fiancé" arranged for her?

He seemed very gentle and careful with her.

And him? All he had brought her was harm and despair.

A strong surge of emotion—a mix of jealousy, remorse, and humble longing—shattered his reason.

He no longer cared about anything; like an out-of-control beast, he suddenly rushed out from behind the tree where he was hiding, stumbling toward that peaceful scene.

"Summer!"

His voice was hoarse and broken, sounding particularly jarring in the quiet lakeside.

The wheelchair stopped.

The man pushing the wheelchair—Caleb—frowned slightly and looked up at the uninvited guest, his gaze calm but carrying a coldness that kept people at a distance.

He took half a step forward, unobtrusively pulling the wheelchair back a bit to stand in front of Summer.

Summer seemed startled for a moment, then she slowly raised her head.

The sunset light fell on her face, gilding her pale skin with a layer of pale gold. She looked at the childhood friend, but her eyes held none of the hate, anger, or pain he had expected.

There was nothing.

Only a vast calmness. A calmness like the surface of a lake in late autumn, without a single ripple.