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Her grades were good, and she studied hard; she was an honor student in the eyes of her teachers, so they didn’t question her.

However, by the afternoon, Purple began to develop a slight fever.

She didn’t know if she had caught it from Atra Blanc or if the cold wind on the river embankment the day before had caused typhoid fever to flare up.

She went to the school clinic, got some antipyretic from the school doctor, and insisted on finishing the afternoon classes.

The last class in the afternoon was a study period, and both Zara Jameson and Jane McCain were worried about her, telling her to go home first, as missing the study period wouldn’t count as truancy.

Purple touched her forehead and felt not only that her temperature hadn’t subsided, but it seemed even hotter; she nodded groggily and packed her bag to go home.

Arriving at the school gate, she suddenly remembered that the family driver would only come to pick her up after school was dismissed.

With twenty minutes left until the end of the school day, it wasn’t a particularly long or short wait, Purple hesitated between waiting for the driver or taking a taxi home.

At that moment, a young man alighted from a parked car by the roadside.

To her surprise, he knew her and came straight over, respectfully saying, “Ms. Summers, Young Master Graves invites you to dine with him, as he has a few words he’d like to discuss with you.”

Purple, who was running a low-grade fever, seemed lucid, but her mind was already starting to blur.

She subconsciously thought that it must be Nathaniel Summers trying to entangle her again; since it was inconvenient to talk at home, he had arranged to meet outside.

Well, whether it’s kind words or harsh ones, she would speak to him one last time.

Purple got into the car.

After the car had been driving for a while, Purple faintly felt that something was amiss. If Nathaniel wanted to talk to her, why didn’t he just contact her directly? Why send someone to relay the message?

“Who is your young master?” Purple asked the man sitting in front.

With a smile, the man replied, “My young master’s surname is Graves.”

Oh… so it’s Young Master Graves…

Purple’s head felt heavy, her thoughts murky.

After pondering for a while longer, she still felt something was wrong.

If it was Gavin Graves who had invited her, why hadn’t Mr. Williams called in advance to check if she was available, instead of waiting at the school gate? He definitely knew her phone number.

And then there was the car.

The car sent by Gavin Graves for pick-up and drop-off was bound to be a luxury car, so why did this one look so ordinary?

Purple was usually very astute, but now her throbbing head made it difficult to think; she felt something was off but couldn’t figure out why.

Driven by instinctual self-preservation, she reached into her bag, quietly pulled out the hidden gun, and, using her coat to hide it, clipped the gun to her waist.

The recent chilly return of spring meant she was wearing a thick coat, which concealed the gun so well that it was invisible from the outside.

After doing this, Purple continued to watch the scenery outside the car window, trying to memorize the route the car was taking.

However, the other party seemed not to fear her knowing, as they made no suspicious moves during the drive.

The car pulled up in front of a hotel, and the man invited Purple to get out, still with respectful demeanor.

Purple grew even more suspicious, thinking to herself, could she have guessed wrong? Was it really Young Master Graves who had invited her?

With this confusion, Purple followed the man into the hotel and arrived at a room door.

The man smiled and said, “My young master is inside, Ms. Summers, please.”

Purple lifted her gaze and saw a flash of sinister gleam in his eyes, the thrill and excitement of a scheme about to succeed.

—There was indeed something complicated about this affair.

Purple felt a sinking sensation in her heart.

For the moment, she couldn’t figure out who was against her or what the purpose of bringing her here was.

However, the gun at her waist gave her confidence, and if she acted now, startling the snakes in the grass, she might never uncover the scheming behind this.

Purple, without betraying any emotion, kept her hand on the gun at her waist and reached out to open the door—