The man in the back seat closed his eyes, as if he hadn’t heard him.
Alexander Winslow glanced at Sumr Sutton outside the window, pondered for a mont, and then said, "I wonder, why does it seem like she’s coming for you?"
The man behind still ignored his words.
Alexander Winslow turned his face slightly to look at him, voicing the confusion in his heart, "Do you know her?"
The man wearing a mask hadn’t answered yet, and Alexander Winslow shook his head, dismissing the thought, "No, no. We t in Northern Ireland, and this is back ho, two people so far apart—how could they have any connection?"
Sumr Sutton wasn’t chasing him or the man in the back seat. Alexander thought he guessed wrong and focused back on driving.
Sumr Sutton was still running in this direction, stumbling as she ran, falling several tis in the process.
The road was so hard that when she fell, even pedestrians felt pain for her.
But she seed unable to feel it, her eyes fixed on Alexander Winslow’s car, running almost out of breath.
Alexander’s car really wasn’t fast, cruising leisurely, glancing here and there, driving with a laid-back attitude.
But, however slow, it was still a car!
Not sothing Sumr Sutton’s legs could match in speed.
Chasing like this from behind, Sumr Sutton didn’t know how many streets she’d run.
Until Alexander Winslow’s car completely disappeared from her view.
Sumr Sutton stood rigidly at the intersection, looking at the empty road ahead, her heart suddenly feeling hollow at this mont...
After she left, Marshall Quinn also left the scene.
Driving, Marshall searched all over the streets near the banquet hotel for her.
He found Sumr Sutton more than an hour later.
She was sitting stiffly on the ground, her eyes vacant, staring at the intersection ahead like soone who’d lost their soul, her eyes devoid of focus.
Marshall stopped the car and quickly walked toward her, exclaiming, "Oh dear, Miss Sutton, why are you sitting on the ground?"
He tried to help her up and noticed the injuries on her knees and feet, pausing in shock.
Sumr Sutton’s legs were covered with wounds from the knees down—bruises of all sizes, so still bleeding—a sight as wretched as could be.
Even Marshall, as a man, felt pained seeing it. Not knowing what happened to her, Marshall didn’t ask much, just helped her up and took her to the car.
On the way to take Sumr Sutton ho, Marshall bought so dicine and then drove her back to Morning Garden.
When Sumr Sutton walked in carrying the dicine, her back looked despondent, knitting Marshall’s brows tighter and tighter.
He actually wanted to know what happened to Sumr Sutton tonight, but he feared ntioning it would sadden her.
Silently watching Sumr Sutton enter the house, Marshall drove away.
Sumr Sutton went upstairs, took a shower, tossed the dicine aside, and didn’t treat her wounds, sitting on the sofa still lost in thought.
Her mind was filled with the blurry silhouette she saw at the hotel entrance tonight.
The lighting was too dim then, and indeed she couldn’t see clearly.
However, in this world, only Adrian Walyon makes her nervous, makes her heart race, makes her reluctant, makes her yearn.
The man who appeared tonight, she hadn’t seen his face from start to finish.
However, ever since he appeared, all of Sumr Sutton’s attention was drawn to him.
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