Prince Rosen had a bad feeling. He asked, "What happened?"
"Your Highness, we’ve been exposed. The IP that posted the photos has already been taken down," his subordinate said in a low voice.
What?
Prince Rosen’s worst suspicion was confird. "Was it Morgan Ashworth?"
The subordinate nodded. "Yes."
Morgan Ashworth was a digital prodigy. When Prince Rosen had ordered the kissing photo to be leaked, he’d used a foreign IP precisely to keep Morgan from tracing it. He hadn’t expected Morgan to track it down anyway.
"Your Highness, this Morgan Ashworth is just too formidable. There’s no防ing him. I’m guessing... the Princess of Alani, Willow Crawford, also knows the photo was... exposed by us. We’re blown."
Prince Rosen took out his phone and dialed Willow Crawford’s number, but no one picked up. Willow didn’t answer his call.
It seed Willow definitely knew.
Her attitude that morning had already been off. Thinking back now, she had been deliberately setting a trap in their conversation, coaxing him into voicing his plan—making their engagent public.
Willow really had grown up. The girl she once was, buried with the boy Miles Linden, was gone. Standing here now was Willow Crawford, Princess of Alani.
Cough, cough, cough.
Prince Rosen started coughing violently again, hacking up a mouthful of bright blood.
"Your Highness!" His subordinate blanched in horror.
Prince Rosen’s face was very pale, but he calmly lifted a hand. "I’m fine."
"Your Highness, what should we do now?" the subordinate asked.
Prince Rosen tossed the bloodstained handkerchief into the trash, the corner of his thin lips hooking up. "Willow, if only you’d behaved and been obedient. You shouldn’t have forced my hand."
As he spoke, he lifted his hand and clapped three tis, sharp and crisp.
Soon, a woman walked in. She had a bell hanging at her waist, and as she moved, it rang with a clear, pleasant tinkling, as if the sound carried a kind of magic that could bewitch the mind.
"Your Highness, is this... a rfolk?" the subordinate blurted in shock. He had never imagined a rfolk would appear here.
Prince Rosen’s expression was very calm. He gave the subordinate a bland glance. "Back when Alani and the rfolk of Westria went to war, we took the opportunity to plant our eyes and influence there. The rfolk are most skilled at the Bewitching Technique, but Morgan Ashworth has always despised it. The Bewitching Technique has since died out in The rfolk Kingdom. How could they imagine the rfolk’s Bewitching Technique is already in my hands?"
"But Your Highness, they’re still rfolk. How can our royal family cooperate with rfolk..." The subordinate’s voice trailed off, because Prince Rosen had looked at him.
Stripped of his gentle exterior, that glance from Prince Rosen was vicious and gloomy, enough to make one’s blood run cold.
The subordinate didn’t dare say another word. If the world learned that the august royal family was secretly colluding with the remnants of the rfolk, and even using sothing as disreputable as the Bewitching Technique, what would people think?
In this world, white was no longer purely white, and black no longer purely black. At this mont, the woman stepped forward and said with a fawning smile, "Prince Rosen, do you want to bewitch the Princess of Alani, Willow Crawford?"
Prince Rosen nodded. "Yes."
"Very well, no problem at all. I’ve heard this Princess of Alani has unparalleled beauty and is deeply favored by Your Highness. Rest assured, I’ll make Princess Willow love you so madly she can’t live without you, utterly obedient to your every word."
Prince Rosen shook his head. "You’ve misunderstood ."
What?
The woman froze. So that wasn’t what Rosen ant—then what did he want?
This deeply hidden Prince Rosen suddenly beca unreadable.
...
At this mont, Willow had already arrived at Morgan Ashworth’s place. Morgan said quietly, "I’ve taken down that IP. Rosen should also know he’s been exposed on your end."
Just then, a string of lodious ringtone sounded. Willow’s phone was ringing.
It was Rosen calling.
But Willow didn’t pick up.
"Willow, between and Rosen, you still chose to believe ."
Yes. When Willow first saw that kissing photo, she knew it wasn’t Morgan.
She knew Morgan. If he made a move, it would never be sothing this simple.
Later Rosen showed up, and the instant he appeared, Willow knew it was him.
She and Rosen could be considered childhood sweethearts, yet Rosen had beco so unfamiliar she no longer recognized him.
Willow didn’t want to keep talking about this with Morgan. Her voice was cold. "That kissing photo—may I trouble you, Young Master Ashworth, to deal with it for ? With your thods, it should be a breeze."
Morgan looked at Willow’s ice-cold little face. She had always been soft and sweet before, but now that she’d gone cold, that aloof, celestial aura of a noble-born lady erged, adding a few degrees of untouchable, chilling beauty. The corner of his mouth lifted. "Willow, why should I do that for you?"
He took two steps forward as he spoke, his tall, refined fra closing in on her. "Didn’t you say we were over? Then in what capacity are you ordering around—my ex?"
So close, Willow breathed in the clean scent on him, saw this peerlessly handso face, and his gentle eyes at this mont. It was all so familiar it felt as if nothing had changed.
Her chest hurt so badly she could hardly breathe. She knew all of this was fake. He had never liked her, not once!
She would never be fooled again!
Willow straightened her slender, elegant back and t his gaze unflinchingly. "Young Master Ashworth, you seem to have misunderstood the situation.
You don’t have a choice now, do you? If you don’t help handle that kissing photo, then I can only announce my engagent to Rosen to deal with it. A marriage alliance between Alani and the royal family—isn’t that exactly what your rfolk want to see?"
Morgan paused. He truly hadn’t expected her to say that. She’d gotten smarter—or rather, she had always been this smart.
They say n are stumbling blocks on a woman’s path forward. Without a man, Willow had beco sharp and perceptive, able to judge the situation and seize the initiative.
This version of Willow, he liked just as much.
"Fine. I’ll take care of that kissing photo for you. But not because I fear your alliance—consider it... paynt for letting kiss you."
As he spoke, Morgan lifted his hand, reaching toward her breathtakingly cold and beautiful face.
Smack.
Willow slapped his hand away forcefully. "Young Master Ashworth, have so self-respect!"
She’d really used strength. The back of Morgan’s hand was reddened, but he only chuckled carelessly. "You’re talking to about self-respect now? When you threw yourself at and kissed , why didn’t you bring up self-respect then?"
Willow: "..."
Just then, a coy, sugary voice rang out. "Young Master."
Willow looked up to see a beautiful girl in a gauzy dress walking out of Morgan’s room, gazing at him with soft, amorous eyes.
"Young Master, it’s about ti we left. Helen was sent by the Master to attend to you. The Master said Young Master is at the age to have a woman." the subordinate spoke up at this mont.
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