His words were angry, full of fire.
"Let go of me first!" Summer Ford's wrist hurt from his grip, and she frowned in pain.
Her features weren't exactly delicate, unlike Raine Sullivan, who seemed like a flower needing to be cherished in one's palm.
Because of her innate pride, Summer Ford often left an impression of being rebellious.
However, today, while struggling with Ethan Laurent gripping her wrist, she gave off an indescribable sense of vulnerability.
Her strength was weak, her already small and pitiful face was paper-white, and her lip color was pale.
Her delicate brows were furrowed again, frail like a morning glory battered by rain.
Ethan Laurent's gaze subtly swept across her face, his brows furrowing.
He was pondering if she was unwell, but unexpectedly, this delicate woman suddenly bumped him with her body, "Let go!"
The force was not gentle.
This version of her made Ethan Laurent's expression darken.
