The quiet room echoed with Willow Crawford’s heart-wrenching sobs; at that mont, she was almost overwheld by emotion.
No one knows how long she cried, but Willow turned to soft whimpers, maintaining a curled-up posture. An air of despair and fragile beauty surrounded her as she hugged a plush doll and talked to herself,
"You know, he ca back. Miles Linden ca back!"
"I thought he was dead. I always thought... he was dead. So when I saw him for the first ti, my heart almost jumped out. It turns out... he wasn’t dead."
"I’m really happy, truly happy. I wanted to run over, to throw myself into his arms, to hold him tightly. I had so many questions to ask him. I wanted to ask how he survived, if the deadly herb had been completely cured, if he was doing well these past years, and if he ever... thought of , if he missed as much as I missed him. But I didn’t say anything — I didn’t even dare to show it. I was afraid... to reunite with him because I was so scared."
"Five years ago, I was the one who caused his death. I know he hates . Now, he probably hates even more because I married Prince Rosen."
"I ruined him, betrayed him. I asked for his life, broke his heart. I lost the boy I loved most, who also loved most."
"This ti, he ca back for revenge. I know he wants revenge. There’s now an insurmountable chasm between us, and I can’t — nor should I — cross it."
Willow didn’t know what kind of nonsense she was uttering. All she knew was that she was very confused; Miles’s return had completely disrupted her once calm and lifeless existence, stirring up her heart.
She still felt it was unreal that he had truly co back.
Five years ago, her mother gave her a bottle of a forgetfulness potion, leaving the choice to her whether to drink it or not.
She did not drink it.
He was her most beloved boy — how could she bear to forget him?
For how many tis in the past five years had she dread of him coming to her, covered in blood, strangling her neck, watching her with eyes full of painful breakup and reluctant longing?
She thought he was dead. She was condemned to eternal solitude by love, trying to imprison herself with the royal family when he suddenly appeared in her life without warning.
He hated her.
Now, what should she do?
...
In the villa.
Morgan Ashworth leaned back on the sofa, closing his handso eyes, when the room door swung open, and a string of light footsteps approached.
"Young Master, let give you a massage." A pair of small hands ca over with a soft voice, starting to knead his temples.
The pressure was just right.
Morgan reached out, grabbing the girl’s fair wrist and pulling it.
Ah.
The girl exclaid softly, falling directly into Morgan Ashworth’s embrace.
Morgan slowly opened his eyes. The girl in his arms was fresh and beautiful, dressed in a gossar white nightgown, with her dark hair cascading down. Her big eyes were watery and fearful, giving off a vibe reminiscent of young Willow Crawford.
Morgan released her, "Straddle ."
His tone was commanding, but the words were quite suggestive.
The girl blushed, lifted her skirt, and straddled the man’s sturdy thighs.
Morgan’s gaze fell on her chest, and his slender fingers reached out from under her white dress.
The girl was still innocent. Although taught so skills to serve n when she arrived, she lacked experience. Morgan’s direct approach and slightly rough force caused her so discomfort.
Nonetheless, looking at Morgan’s dashing face — a mature, handso man exuding an unspeakable charm from his power and status — which girl would not feel moved?
Her body softened as she wrapped her arms around Morgan’s neck, letting out soft, pleased hums.
She hoped for things to progress further.
However, Morgan unexpectedly lost interest, flicking his hand and sending the girl tumbling to the floor.
The girl was dumbfounded, utterly at a loss. Just monts ago, this man was full of desire, "Young Master, did I... did I do sothing wrong? Tell , and I’ll change."
Morgan looked down at her from above, "Get out!"
The girl dared not resist, bearing the pain and tears in her eyes, quickly retreated.
Morgan was in a foul mood. In darkness, his handso face seed even more deep and gloomy, leaving no one to know what he was thinking.
At that mont, a "knock knock" sounded on the door. Eleven walked in, "Young Master, was the girl unsatisfactory? Shall I arrange another one?"
Five years ago, Aro, Trey, Sloan, and Nolan, who followed Morgan, all died. Morgan had a new subordinate nad Eleven.
The na "Eleven" kept reminding Morgan of what happened in the past, continually reminding him of Willow’s betrayal!
Morgan pursed his thin lips, "No need."
"Understood, Young Master. Do you think Willow, the First Princess, has truly forgotten you? Five years ago, Serena Sterling once brought a bottle of forgetfulness potion. I wonder if Willow drank it."
Morgan gave a cold laugh. She did drink it. There’s no recognition now!
This woman was cold and ruthless; five years ago, she nearly got him killed. Not only did she feel no guilt or remorse, but she drank the potion and utterly forgot him. She married Prince Rosen and even had a child.
Indeed, why would she feel guilty or remorseful?
After all, it was all a plot between her and Rosen, working from inside and out to kill him.
He could never forget when she said, "Never." She never loved him!
A vicious aura coated Morgan’s handso brows as he reached out and smashed the vase on the table.
A shattering crash echoed, piercingly loud.
"Young Master, don’t be angry. It doesn’t do your body any good. The deadly herb..." Eleven didn’t continue.
Morgan concealed the redness in his eyes, "She thinks she can forget ? Then I’ll help her rember who I am, bit by bit. The show is just beginning!"
Eleven dared not speak further. The Young Master’s temperant was becoming more erratic and bloodthirsty, with no one able to understand his thoughts.
"You may leave."
"Yes, Young Master."
...
Morgan entered the bathroom for a cold shower. When he ca out, he noticed a school uniform laid out on the bed, the one Willow swapped out before leaving.
Morgan lay on the bed, with the clothes she wore lying next to him. Without trying to sniff, he could sll the lingering scent of her girlish fragrance.
The girl earlier was quite beautiful, but compared to Willow, she didn’t stand a chance. She wasn’t satisfying his craving.
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