<b>Chapter </b><b>383 </b>


    Craig tapped his nose <b>thoughtfully</b>. What kind <b>of </b>superstar had he signed?


    Summer snapped back to reality<b>, </b>nced at her agent, and then stood up briskly. “I’ll give It a shot. My foster parents were decent to me back in the day.”


    Craig, though dubious, was relieved that the situation hadn’t escted to a nightmare scenario. “Alright then, off you go. I’ll wait for your update. And hand over your Twitter login. I’ll have someone draft an apology tweet.”


    At the mention of an apology tweet, Summer’s eyelids drooped slightly as she murmured softly, “No need.” Apologizing now would be futile, only making her seem more insincere to her followers.


    Craig mulled it over and decided not to push the issue. “Fine, as you wish.”


    “I better get going.”


    Summer grabbed her mask and sunsses, quickly disguising herself, and swiftly exited the office.


    Craig watched her retreating figure, wondering if she was perhaps the quickest to crash and burn among all the talents he’d managed. Fame was fleeting, and now she was facing a bacsh.


    It was just one of those years, he sighed,


    After leaving the agency, Summer hailed a cab to the quaint neighborhood where the Davis family’s old house was nestled.


    Once there, she stood outside for a long while, watching peoplee and go in the lobby, finally mustering enough courage to step inside.


    She pressed the button for the top floor in the elevator, her heart rising with the ascent, anxious about the reception she might receive. She wondered if her foster parents would be willing to help her or if they’d turn a cold shoulder, especially since she had nearly tarnished Leo’s reputation.


    The elevator dinged, and Summer shuddered as the doors slid open. She felt a sudden urge to flee but, thinking of her future, took a deep breath and stepped out. She approached the Davis door and pressed the doorbell.


    Time ticked by. After five long minutes with no response, she pressed it again. More time passed, but still no answer.


    Summer frowned. Could it be that no one was home? She checked the time, and it was nearly six o’clock. It seemed unlikely that the house would be empty. Her foster parents


    <b>1/2 </b>


    11:20


    wouldn’t have known she wasing, so it couldn’t be a deliberate snub.


    After a few more attempts and no sign of life, Summer concluded that the house was indeed empty.


    She pulled out her phone, found Delh’s number, hesitated for a few seconds, and dialed. The call went through, but no one picked up, leaving her with the cold, mechanical voice of the voicemail service.


    Summer hung <b>up </b>without leaving a message and leaned wearily against the wall, waiting. She waited until her feet went numb, but the Davis family didn’t return, nor did Delh call


    back.


    As time went on, Summer’s spirits plummeted, and those bitter thoughts began to creep back in. Then, the elevator chimed. Instinctively, she looked up.