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Purple Summers felt that the voice vaguely resembled Alexander Summers.

She stared blankly at the partially concealed door, as if her gaze could pierce through and clearly see the situation inside.

“Ms. Summers?” Zack Wallace tried to call out softly.

Purple Summers came back to her senses, glanced at him, and then, without saying a word, got up and walked slowly into the room.

The doctor then closed the door behind her.

Zack Wallace waited anxiously at the door for a while, even pressing his ear to it and listening—inside it was eerily quiet, without the intense argument he had imagined.

Zack Wallace sighed with relief.

…

Purple Summers walked into the room and saw around the bed there were light blue medical curtains, one of which was pulled aside, and the doctor was performing the final wound suturing treatment.

Alexander Summers was actually awake, his eyes dark as ink, looking intently at her.

He looked a bit… unlike himself.

When she had entered the elevator earlier, Purple Summers was so scared by the black and red blood stains on his body, she hadn’t taken the time to pay attention; now, looking directly at his face, she noticed the difference.

Alexander Summers’ hairstyle was different, his skin tone… was darker, and there was a ferocious scar on his face, like an old wound from many years ago, slanting across from his forehead, covering half of his face.

Purple Summers understood in her heart that this was Alexander Summers’ second face: Roy Howard.

A hairstyle could easily change a person’s appearance and demeanor, further distinguished by a different skin tone, not to mention such a characteristic scar on the face. Even if someone noticed the resemblance of Roy Howard’s features to the Summers family’s fourth young master, they would never think the two were the same person.

A doctor brought a chair over to Purple Summers so she could sit by the bed and accompany Alexander Summers.

Purple Summers sat down and quietly watched the doctor’s bustling around.

Neither of them spoke.

Zack Wallace hadn’t lied to her; it really was just a minor surgery. They removed the bullet from the wound, and there wasn’t much of an issue afterward.

Alexander Summers had been weak just now only because he had lost too much blood. Now that he had received a transfusion and his wounds had been treated, he looked almost as good as new, save for being a bit pale.

After finishing the suturing, the doctor bandaged Alexander Summers’ wound, then took away the bloody cotton, bandages, and all the surgical instruments.

In the empty room, only the two of them remained.

If it weren’t for the lingering smell of blood in the air, no one would think that a surgical operation had just taken place here.

“Do you want some water?” Purple Summers was the first to break the silence, standing up and saying, “I’ll go get you some.”

Alexander Summers grabbed Purple Summers’ hand, asking her to sit down again, and then studied her carefully, a faint smile in his eyes.

“Are you afraid?” he asked.

Purple Summers countered, “Afraid of what?”

“Afraid that I would die?” he asked with interest as he looked at her face.

“Quite afraid,” Purple Summers admitted bluntly, nodding. “With a dead body like this, I can’t explain it to Mom. I can’t just say you flirted with the Howard family’s young lady and didn’t do a good job at playing the hero, so you lost your life.”

“Ha…” Alexander Summers started laughing, but as he had injuries, the laughter caused pain in his muscles and nerves, so he couldn’t help but frown.

Purple Summers looked at him and said, “Does it hurt? Your body aches, but your heart must be happy, right? You risked your life to save her; she should be indebted to you. You’ll have money, power, and the girl—all in your hands. How nice that must be.”

Alexander Summers, upon hearing her words, laughed even harder, but the wound hurt again. He covered the injured area, laughing so hard it affected his breathing, “Purple, are you jealous?”

Purple Summers had a cold expression, not understanding what was so funny about it.

If the bullet had been a bit more off, he might have lost his life, and yet he still laughed?

She stood up with an impassive face, “You should rest. I’m going home.”

Alexander Summers shamelessly tugged at her wrist, “Don’t go, what if I get thirsty later? And if I remember something, who will help me? I’m sweaty and bloody, how will I clean up…”

He rambled on and on.