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To love a man engaged to another.

Such a thing would have been absolutely unacceptable to her in the past, even if the engagement was fake, temporary.

Now, however, she had compromised, yielded, done what she once deemed immoral.

“To secure his position as the family head, he can get engaged to someone else, but in the future… could he marry someone else for the same reason?” Purple Summers asked herself.

Her heart was in turmoil, she saw no way out for this relationship, uncertain whether it was a lack of faith in Alexander or in herself.

The sound of water continued, the hot water in the basin spilling out and wetting the marble countertop.

Purple Summers came to her senses and quickly turned off the faucet.

She wiped the tears from her face in front of the mirror and carried the basin out again.

Alexander Summers was slightly displeased, “Why did it take you so long?”

Purple Summers snapped at him coldly, “If you think I’m too slow, get Zack Wallace to do it.”

Alexander Summers smiled again, “Why would I call him? Without you by my side for even a minute, I feel uneasy. Just put the basin aside after you’re done, someone will come to clean it up.”

Purple Summers thought he was capricious, like a madman.

She dampened the towel and carefully wiped his face, his brows, temples, and behind his ears, very meticulously.

Alexander Summers enjoyed it immensely, smilingly said, “You’ve become bold, even daring to talk back. Do you think I can’t deal with you now that I’m injured?”

Purple Summers pretended not to hear; she was not afraid, for Alexander’s so-called ‘dealing with her’ was actually just hooliganism.

She had grown numb to it.

After wiping Alexander Summers’ face and body twice, her arm was a bit sore. She pressed on the scar on his face and asked, “Why doesn’t this scar come off?”

Alexander Summers grasped her hand, “That’s one that won’t wash off.”

Purple Summers’ expression faltered, followed by a stifled feeling in her chest…

So… both faces were fake. She thought the real Alexander Summers had also worn makeup, concealing the fierce scar on his face.

“Tired?” Alexander Summers took the towel from her hand and massaged her fingers with a pressure that was just right.

Purple Summers, looking at the scar on his face, softly asked, “When did you get this?”

“Years ago,” Alexander Summers answered casually, dismissively adding, “Back then, Damian Howard and I were in Pearlpoint City, full of youthful bravado, daring to think and do anything. When someone threatened our casino customers with a knife to disrupt our business, we retaliated by throwing bombs into their places. Eventually my enemies caught up to me and this wound is from that time.”

After finishing his story with a light laugh, he pulled Purple into his arms and said, “What man doesn’t bear scars? This is the imprint of growth.”

Purple Summers looked at him with disdain, “Looks more like the imprint of your delinquent past to me.”

Suddenly feeling that the teardrops she shed in front of the mirror earlier were overly dramatic and unjustified, she wondered how she could have cried over such a man?

Her eyes must have been clouded by sleep crust.

Yes, that must be it.

“Purple,” Alexander Summers called her gently, “What are you thinking about?”

Purple Summers snapped out of it, shook her head and frowned, “You’re so annoying, do you even have to know what’s in my head? Go to sleep now, you just had surgery.”

She thought Alexander Summers didn’t take good care of himself.

Just the multitude of old scars on his body alone would surely make Atra Blanc cry her heart out.

Alexander Summers smiled, “I brought you a gift. Go get it from my coat pocket.”

Purple Summers pouted and found his coat on a chair nearby, reaching in and feeling nothing, then switched to the other pocket.

The moment her hand went in, she couldn’t help but frown, as she pulled out a handful of blood…