Morgan Ashworth was completely stunned. He looked at the girl beneath him in utter shock, "How are you still... a virgin?"

Willow Crawford’s forehead was covered in cold sweat, her eyes red with grievance, "What do you think? You must think I’m lying to you again, that I’ve had a surgery to restore it in the hospital!"

"Why not? You not only got married but also had a child," Morgan retorted.

"..." So he truly suspected she had gone to the hospital for a hymen repair surgery, this person!

Willow thought that knowing she was untouched would make him overjoyed, holding her and sharing heartfelt words, but she didn’t expect this outcome.

"Morgan Ashworth, how could you be so bad?"

"Who’s really the bad one? Who helped that princess Rosalind with a hymen repair surgery to deceive me? Don’t think I don’t know. I’ve noted all your wrongdoings behind my back!"

Willow was speechless. She indeed had helped Rosalind arrange a hymen repair surgery.

Her small hands clenched into fists, she bit her lower lip and punched him twice, "Idiot, Prince Rosen died a long time ago, he died five years ago!"

Willow feared that if she didn’t confess now, he would really continue misunderstanding her.

What?

Morgan’s pupils contracted. So Prince Rosen really died five years ago!

"The little prince isn’t your son?"

Willow was about to cry, her eyes red, "Rosen is dead, with whom would I have a son!"

The impact was overwhelming. Morgan had indeed suspected Rosen had died earlier, but he had been deceived by her into letting it go, and later he dared not think of it again.

It turns out she never belonged to anyone. She was still the untouched her from five years ago.

Morgan’s heart softened all at once. He leaned down, kissed her red lips, then whispered hoarsely three words, "Little widow."

Little? Widow?

How could he say that to her?

Willow’s pale face blushed instantly. She turned her head away, refusing to let him kiss her.

Morgan’s large hands fell on the S-curve of her soft waist, closing his eyes...

"Morgan Ashworth, it really hurts!"

"If it hurts, just bear it!"

...

One night of passion quickly turned into early morning.

Last night, Morgan led a team to stage a dramatic affair, and no one dared sleep, all fearing another commotion. But who would have thought Morgan and Willow stayed holed up in the room the whole night until dawn.

At that moment, the door opened and Morgan walked out, shouting loudly, "Someone come!"

The maid quickly ran over, "Master, what are your orders?"

"Call a doctor!"

"Yes."

"Come back!"

"Master, do you have any other orders?"

"Call a female doctor!"

The maid glanced at Morgan. He was no longer his usual composed self, and crucially, his clothes were disheveled, with his shirt and suit pants hastily thrown on, even his belt wasn’t fastened properly.

The sight immediately told a story of haste to get out of bed, leaving the happenings on the bed up to one’s imagination.

The maid’s face turned red, quickly lowering her head, "Yes."

Soon the female doctor arrived, "Young Master Morgan, what happened?"

Morgan pressed his thin lips together as he looked into the room, "She got a little hurt and kept saying it hurts. Go help her."

The female doctor froze, then processed it in a few seconds—no big deal, she was an expert at this.

It’s just that this Young Master Morgan, now in his prime, elegant and surrounded by beautiful women and countless temptations, had yet to hear of anyone climbing into his bed.

It was his first time indulging!

The female doctor was a little curious about the exceptional beauty who managed to win Morgan’s heart.

"Yes, Young Master Morgan, I’ll go in now." The female doctor was about to enter.

"Wait a minute," Morgan suddenly said, "She’s afraid of pain, be gentle."

"...Young Master Morgan, shouldn’t that be a note to yourself?" Knowing she’s afraid of pain, weren’t you considerate earlier?

Being rebutted by the female doctor, Morgan’s narrow eyes squinted instantly, his face turning unsightly.

The female doctor wished to curse herself, actually voicing her thoughts—such impertinence!

"I understand. Please be assured, Young Master Morgan, I will handle it with care." The female doctor entered the room.

...

Inside the room, the female doctor walked to the bedside and saw Willow.

Willow was lying on her side, her body covered by the silk sheet, but her delicate, snow-white shoulder was exposed. Her long, disheveled hair spread over the pillow, intertwining with her white skin, black against white—a visual impact, both alluring and poignant.

Willow was in pain, her exquisite face pale, her eyes watery, resembling an injured fawn, evoking sympathy.

The female doctor clicked her tongue in amazement. She had seen many beauties, but none as stunning as this one. No wonder this Young Master Morgan lost control.

"Miss, I’m a doctor. Let me treat your wound," the female doctor approached.

Willow nodded, "Okay."

When the female doctor saw Willow’s injuries, she gasped. This Young Master Morgan, so young and reckless, how could he hurt such a delicate beauty this way?

...

Morgan stood outside the door, hesitant to enter. He felt guilty, thinking of her pitiful appearance as she cried out in pain beneath him, and he was quite heartbroken. For the first time, he was timid, afraid to enter.

He had been impulsive, his body in its prime, longing and yearning for her for years. Once the gates of desire opened, he couldn’t control it.

He lost control last night, and even this morning as he held her in his arms, he lost control again.

He had hurt her.

Just then, the door opened and the female doctor came out, "Young Master Morgan."

"How is she?"

"The wound has been stitched up, and painkillers administered. Young Master Morgan, I have something to say which perhaps I shouldn’t."

"What do you want to say?"

"Being young is good, but one must moderate bedroom affairs. The young lady inside has no experience. Aren’t you afraid of leaving her with some psychological trauma with your roughness?"

"Psychological trauma?"

"There could be many consequences. For instance, she might reject your touch and intimacy in the future. These matters require mutual joy and harmony. If the young lady cannot find happiness with you, what joy remains?" The female doctor questioned.

"..."

Morgan hadn’t initially considered these things. Thinking about it now, she loved being close to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, but last night, she had kept crying out in pain, only feeling hurt.

If she were to have psychological trauma in the future, what would he do then?

Morgan began to fret.