NovelEnglishIn the room, the warm yellow light spilled all over silently.
Against her midnight blue dress, it was like a bright starry sky.
She then noticed that on her left arm, there was indeed a bloodstain. The wound was not too deep, and not too shallow. The blood
had dried and coagulated. It must have been cut by those punks during the fight just now.
She remembered one of the punks wore a sharp claw-like thing on his finger, so it must be him.
At that time, she focused solely on the fight, and did not feel any pain at all.
"Just a minor injury." She didn't think anything of it.
But, suddenly, she exclaimed, "Oh my God, | broke my dress!"
She caught a glimpse of her sleeve, which had been torn open with a slit in the expensive fabric! She hurriedly checked the rest of
the dress again, and surprisingly, it was cut in more than one place and was thus definitely beyond repair. She hadn't noticed it at
all before.
This dress had cost her a fortune and she only wore it once!
It was simply heartbreaking and what a pricey dinner she just had tonight!
Luther was amused to see that she did not care about her wounds at all, but instead cared about her clothes and did not resist
him. It made him feel good.
"Which is more important to you? Your clothes or your life?" He asked her with a raised eyebrow. She sat in his arms, only thinking
about her clothes, and did not resist.
Holding her at the moment made him feel like he had traveled back in tto the days before he had lost his memory and hurt
her.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtThe way she looked at the moment, the tone of her voice, the things she cared about all pointed to the spossibility.
He was more and more sure that she was Joyce, and there was no mistake.
"Of course the clothes are important!" Joyce answered without thinking, "It's expensive, okay?"
Only when she started her own business did she realize how hard it was to make money, not to mention the fact that she had to
raise Anderson.
Luther smiled, "Here, lethelp you with your wound. It's just a dress, and | can send you plenty if you need them."
"No need." Joyce finally realized she was still sitting in his arms and hurriedly stood up from him.
"I'll just take care of the wound myself." She stepped aside and picked up a cotton swab and was about to clean her wound herself.
However, it was not at all as convenient as she thought it would be.
Luther snatched the swab from her hand, "Just letdo it."
His tone was domineering and so were his actions. He held her arm firmly in place as he carefully wiped her wound with a cotton
swab, "Don't move. The wound isn't shallow and will leave a scar if not treated properly."
He then applied anti-inflammatory powder to her.
"Take this antiphlogistine and use it after you have taken a bath. It helps minimize the scar."
After treating the wound, Joyce drew back her arm, "Mr. Warner really has everything. You even keep wound medicine and these
things around."
"There's no harm in being prepared." Luther smiled faintly.
"The wound on your head has been taken care of. Put ice on it yourself so it won't swell up. If you have got nothing forto do, I'll
leave first." Joyce was just about to turn around and leave.
He reclined on the couch and reached out to tug her.
"I helped you and got hurt, and that's all | get in return?" His tone was innocent and sounded aggrieved.
"So what else do you want? To give you money?" She knew very well that the last thing he needed was money, and much less
money from her. She said this only to show her displeasure.
"Huh. At least, poura glass of water, peel an apple or something. That's not too much to ask, | hope?"
He looked at her with a smile, his eyes bright and innocent.
Joyce took a breath. After all, he had helped her. It was indeed not too much to ask.
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