On the way back to the villa, Jude Eustace gave the front passenger seat to Summer Thorne and sat in the back himself. He was fiddling with his phone the whole way, and from the looks of it, he was still arguing with Hazel Morgan.
Summer Thorne curled up in her seat, her thoughts drifting uncontrollably far away...
Until Gale Fawley, who was driving, asked, "What kind of message did you leave for the homeowner?"
Summer Thorne snapped back to reality. "I just left a note explaining the situation."
"I wonder whose house it is," Gale Fawley said. "I should thank them for helping you in an emergency."
"You're too kind, Mr. Fawley. This really had nothing to do with you. You don't need to take responsibility for it."
Gale Fawley smiled, but then suddenly asked, "Was it really empty?"
Summer Thorne's expression was calm. "Of course."
Gale Fawley said, "I took a walk around the yard just now, and I thought I saw a horse in the backyard..."
Hearing this, Summer Thorne slowly turned her head to look at him.
The well-mannered, polite young master kept his eyes on the road as he drove, still wearing that same humble, smiling expression. After a moment's pause, he just gave a low chuckle and said, "I must have been mistaken."
His tone was calm and sincere, with no discernible ulterior motive.
Summer Thorne looked away and replied calmly, "Maybe."
...
When they finally returned to the villa, several of Gale Fawley's close friends were downstairs, drinking and chatting as they waited for them.
Seeing that everyone had returned safe and sound, the group finally dispersed, each heading back to their own room.
Summer Thorne returned to her room and called the butler, asking him to prepare some medicine for a cold and fever.
The butler quickly delivered the medicine to her room. Summer Thorne packed the medicine, grabbed her car keys, and headed out again.
However, just as she got downstairs, she was surprised to see Gale Fawley still sitting in the main hall.
Gale Fawley looked up at her, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Mrs. Crawford, why aren't you resting yet? Were you too frightened to sleep?"
Before Summer Thorne could answer, she suddenly heard a BANG as the main door was pushed open from the outside—
A blast of icy air swept in, and with it came a familiar figure.
Timothy York.
Summer Thorne froze on the spot, just staring at him.
He didn't look well.
'How could someone who's already caught a chill and is running a fever possibly look well after riding a horse back in this freezing weather?'
And so, her own expression soured.
Timothy York glanced at her for only a moment before looking away.
Gale Fawley stood up from the sofa, looking astonished. "It's freezing out there. Where have you been?"
"Couldn't sleep. Went out for a ride," Timothy York said calmly.
Gale Fawley laughed. "If I'd known you were awake, I would have dragged you along to help with the search... We had quite a thrilling time over here, while you were off enjoying yourself."
Timothy York didn't ask a single question. He just closed the door and walked in.
Summer Thorne remained standing where she was, watching him walk closer. Then, as if in a fit of pique, she shoved the medicine she'd prepared from her pocket into his arms, gave him one more look, and turned to head upstairs without a word.
Timothy York glanced down at the medicine in his hands, then looked up again.
Summer Thorne's figure had already disappeared at the top of the second-floor stairs.
With his back to Timothy York, Gale Fawley was also looking in that direction. As if he hadn't seen a thing, he called out with a calm smile, "Get some rest, Mrs. Crawford."
In fact, by this time, the sky was already beginning to lighten.
Summer Thorne went back to her room, collapsed onto the bed, and pulled the covers over her head to sleep.
...
The next time she appeared downstairs, it was already after ten in the morning.
The weather was nice today, and a group of young men were in high spirits, preparing to go out and burn off all the energy they hadn't used up the day before.
Summer Thorne scanned the group but didn't see Timothy York.
"Mrs. Crawford." Gale Fawley, who was among them and full of energy, spoke up. "Why are you up so early? Why not sleep in a little longer?"
His greeting successfully drew everyone's attention to Summer Thorne.
Last night, even Gale Fawley himself had gone out to look for her. Now that they saw Summer Thorne, the others couldn't help but tease her a little.
Gale Fawley walked over to Summer Thorne and said in a low voice, "Jude Eustace and Hazel Morgan have already left. Don't worry about it, just focus on resting."
"Thank you, Mr. Fawley," Summer Thorne said. "And don't worry, so as not to spoil everyone's fun, I'll wait until I'm back in the city to file a police report."
Gale Fawley was taken aback and didn't know what to say. He just nodded. As he was about to turn and leave, he suddenly seemed to remember something. He pulled a room key from his pocket and handed it to Summer Thorne. "We're heading out, and I don't know where the butler has gone. This is the key to Mr. York's room. Could you please give it to the butler for me later?"
Summer Thorne lifted her eyes to look at him.
But Gale Fawley acted as if nothing was amiss. He smiled, placed the key in her hand, and then called to his friends to get ready to leave.
The group had just stepped out the main door when they suddenly started making a commotion about something.
Summer Thorne didn't care. She turned and went upstairs.
When she reached the second-floor landing, her steps faltered. She felt the room key in her pocket and, in the end, headed for the third floor.
Arriving at Timothy York's door, Summer Thorne raised her hand and knocked.
There was no answer.
She stood silently for a moment before finally taking out the room key and swiping it to open the door.
The curtains in the room were only half-drawn. In the dim space, Summer Thorne saw Timothy York lying on the bed.
The man, who was always so proper and distinguished, still maintained a perfectly straight and upright posture even now, asleep and sick. Even the blanket covering his waist wasn't the least bit crooked.
But the pain he was enduring was also obvious.
Summer Thorne sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to touch his forehead, which was furrowed and covered in a cold sweat.
It was still burning hot.
'Didn't he take the medicine when he got back yesterday?'
Summer Thorne sat there for a moment, staring at the unconscious man. Then she got up, went into the bathroom, turned on the hot water, soaked a towel, and wrung it out.
Returning to the bedroom, Summer Thorne lifted the blanket and reached for his neck, gently undoing the buttons of his pajamas.
The man's body was also covered in a thin layer of sweat, and his chest rose and fell unevenly with each breath.
Summer Thorne began to carefully wipe him down with the towel, starting from his neck and moving downwards. As she reached his waist, her hand was suddenly grabbed.
Summer Thorne looked up abruptly and found that Timothy York had, at some point, opened his eyes. His deep, dark gaze was fixed on her.
Summer Thorne faltered for a second before speaking. "Your fever seems to have gotten worse... I looked it up. Wiping your body with a warm towel helps to bring the temperature down."
Timothy York didn't respond, simply sitting up in bed.
Summer Thorne quickly reached out to help him up, but then she suddenly realized that with him sitting up, the distance between them was now far too close.
But she didn't move.
And for a moment, Timothy York didn't move either.