Just as a trace of guilt surfaced in Stephen's heart, he suddenly narrowed his sharp, icy gaze at Summer and let out a short laugh.
He had almost been fooled by her.
Whether in the past or now, Stephen had thoroughly investigated Summer. Every single result pointed to the same thing—she was like wild grass, resilient and pragmatic, never one to chase vanity.
She would never let a little grievance push her to leave his side.
"Come here," Stephen beckoned.
Summer pressed her lips together and slowly made her way over, sitting down beside him.
Stephen lifted her chin with his fingers, his dark eyes unreadable. "Summer, I'm not a three-year-old. Your lies are sloppy and easy to see through. Be good and tell me—what exactly are you trying to hide? Are you still thinking about running away
