As it turned out, Titus Zane had been wrong; since that day, Nathan Moore had never come to her room at night, let alone to punish her.
With a strained muscle, the doctor advised bed rest, and Titus Zane really did follow the doctor’s recommendation.
She took her meals in her own room three times a day, never stepping out of her room, not only to recover from her injury but also because she didn’t want to run into Nathan Moore after her confession of "perhaps having fallen in love."
In the blink of an eye, ten days passed, and Titus Zane’s leg had mostly healed, and the contusion on her forehead had scabbed over, leaving behind a light pink scar, not big but quite noticeable.
Standing in front of the mirror, examining the prominent mark on her forehead, Titus Zane thought for a moment, took up a pair of scissors, and trimmed her long bangs to hide it with a side-swept fringe.
After ten days of bed rest and not leaving the house, and Auntie Liu bringing up nutritious soups to replenish her health, Titus Zane’s complexion had turned much rosier.
After thoroughly washing up and applying light makeup, Titus Zane was ready to sling on her backpack and walk out of the room.
There was a national famous painting exhibition in T city, with many renowned domestic and international artists participating; as an oil painting enthusiast, Titus Zane could not miss the chance to admire the works of great artists.
Although she could walk normally, high heels were still out of the question, so Titus Zane had no choice but to select a pair of flat sports shoes, and to match her outfit, she donned a velvet tracksuit she’d only wear for walks, in a sapphire blue color—neither too deep nor too bright.
With a high ponytail and newly cut bangs, Titus Zane lost her usual ethereal charm and seemed much sunnier.
As she was passing through the lobby, Titus Zane was stopped by the man sitting on the couch.
"Where are you going?" Nathan Moore looked up from the newspaper, his handsome brows slightly furrowed, his face as cold and stern as ever.
Titus Zane stopped in her tracks without turning around, but she let out an impatient sigh and mocked him coldly.
"What, worried I might run off? If you’re concerned, just hire two bodyguards to follow me, it would be more convenient to force me back the moment I try to escape."
In the past, Nathan Moore wouldn’t inquire about her when she left the house; he wouldn’t even take an extra glance at her as she passed by.
After all, he knew she wouldn’t run away.
But today, for some reason, seeing Titus Zane about to leave, Nathan Moore suddenly asked, and it was this question that triggered the long-suppressed resentment in Titus Zane’s heart to erupt, which is why she responded with such impolite sarcasm.
"Where to? Don’t make me ask a second time!" The cold voice carried a clear warning. Olivia Zane looked at the man whose gaze fell on Titus Zane, her eyes flickering with some emotion, and she quickly interjected with a smile, playing the peacemaker.
"Sis, you know that’s not what Nathan meant. He’s worried about you too. You’re eager to go out as soon as your leg injury has healed, but if it causes lingering problems, it’ll be too late for regrets."
Olivia Zane would’ve done better not to mention it; the reminder made Titus Zane sneer, itching to turn around and retort with no courtesy: wouldn’t lingering problems perfectly serve your wish?
But considering the presence of Nathan Moore in the living room, Titus Zane simply said indifferently, "I’m going to see the art exhibition; today’s the last day."
She wouldn’t be foolish enough to provoke that man with a momentary bout of verbal satisfaction, providing him excuses to punish her, and she was also clear that if she kept challenging him, there would be no chance of seeing the exhibition today.
Titus Zane turned around, her lightly made-up face looking at Nathan Moore, her eyebrows slightly raised, with a touch of disdain and sarcasm in her voice, "Is that all right?"