Willow Crawford felt deeply wronged. She was his—then was he hers? Why were there other women around him?

Morgan Ashworth reached out to tear at her clothes, but Willow fought him with all her strength, clutching her collar tightly. "Morgan Ashworth, let go of me, you’re hurting me."

Hearing her cry out in pain, Morgan could only stop, because he didn’t want to hurt her anymore, and also for the sake of their future sex life.

"What’s wrong? Where did I hurt you?"

"You’ve hurt me everywhere. Look yourself, it’s all red here." Willow pointed at the tender skin on her body.

Morgan glanced over; her skin was so delicate that his pressing really had left red marks on her.

She’d been born a noble young lady; that kind of pampered, water‑fed skin and figure was absolutely incomparable to ordinary girls. And this little princess had become his woman.

Morgan’s tone softened, and he held back his impatience to coax her gently. "Then I’ll be gentler."

His hand pressed down on her hair as he tried to lean over.

Hiss.

Willow quickly cried out again, "You’re pressing down on my hair, it hurts."

Morgan had no choice but to straighten up again. He drew his hand back. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to."

"I think you did it on purpose. You’re not gentle with me at all!"

Willow was nursing a grievance, so she complained at him twice. He really wasn’t gentle; he was in such a rush, only wanting to sleep with her. She was starting to feel like she was just his outlet for lust.

Had he already given his gentleness to someone else?

Morgan’s finely cut handsome face instantly darkened, and he was a bit upset as well. Was she complaining that his skills were bad?

She was a first‑timer—wasn’t he too? He had no experience, of course his technique was lacking.

Even so, she still couldn’t despise him, because no man could accept his beloved woman doubting his ability.

"Then let’s try again. This time I’ll definitely prove myself!" Morgan vowed with utter confidence as he pinned Willow’s struggling fair wrists above her head.

Willow refused. "Morgan Ashworth, where the hell did you disappear to these past few days, didn’t the women outside feed you full?"

What?

"What women outside? Willow Crawford, if you don’t want to, then don’t. Now you’re starting to make a scene, is that it?"

"Who’s making a scene? You know very well what you’ve done. If you want it, go find those women outside, don’t touch me!"

Morgan’s sword‑brows twitched into a frown, and a terrifying gloom immediately shrouded his handsome brow. He looked at Willow beneath him. "You want me to go find women outside?"

"You mean you don’t have women outside? In the years we were apart you must have had plenty of beauties like flowers at your side, right!"

Morgan only felt a burst of rage rush to his head, burning his reason to ashes. If he told her that all these years he hadn’t had a single woman, that there was only her, would that just make her even more pleased with herself, so she could ride on his head and throw her weight around in the future?

"Willow Crawford, are you bringing up the past now? Even though Prince Rosen is dead, your marriage was fake, the son was fake, that still can’t erase the fact that you once betrayed me!"

Willow had long wanted to talk about what happened five years ago. Her eyes reddened as she looked at him. "If I told you that five years ago I didn’t betray you, that I was just controlled by your Merfolk Clan’s Demon Bell Charm Skill, would you believe me?"

Bewitching Technique?

Morgan knew about this Bewitching Technique, but it had been lost for a very long time.

"Five years ago I truly left with you of my own will. Every word I said, everything I did came from me liking you, wanting to spend my whole life with you. But at some point Prince Rosen gained control of your Merfolk Clan’s Demon Bell Charm Skill. It controlled me, made me do wrong things and say a lot of cruel, heartless words to you."

Morgan’s eyes gradually darkened. He had always thought she had not a shred of true feeling for him, that even her remaining chaste for five years was merely because Prince Rosen had died early. Her betrayal had constantly reminded and warned him that she didn’t love him!

But now, all of a sudden she overturned everything he’d believed, telling him about this "Demon Bell Charm Skill."

Was he supposed to believe her?

How had Prince Rosen come to control the Merfolk Clan’s Demon Bell Charm Skill? This definitely had to be investigated thoroughly.

"Morgan Ashworth, that’s the truth of back then. You don’t believe me, do you?"

Morgan pressed his thin lips together. "Willow Crawford, even if that’s the case, can you erase the hurt you once caused me? Can you claim you were also an innocent victim? When all’s said and done, that cup of断肠草 was handed to me by your own hand!"

Yes.

That cup of断肠草...

Those words that she had never loved him...

All of them came from her mouth.

This was also why Willow had kept silent and endured all along. The hurt was already done; no matter how many reasons she gave, in his eyes they were nothing but quibbling.

What else could she do?

"I’ve said all that needs saying. Morgan Ashworth, I know you hate me, so if you want to torment me now, do as you please. I won’t resist anymore." Willow closed her eyes, giving up her struggle.

Morgan liked her to be obedient and docile in bed, a bit soft and seductive, or she could hit him and curse him, that was fine too. What he couldn’t stand was her looking like a "corpse being violated" right now.

Torment?

Those two words made Morgan’s mood hit rock bottom. Between a man and a woman, the most intimate union of bodies, in her eyes was only "torment"?

Hmph!

Morgan suddenly let her go, gave a cold snort, and flicked his sleeve as he left.

Listening to his footsteps grow fainter and farther away, Willow slowly and weakly closed her eyes.

...

Morgan arrived at a private villa and stood in front of the floor‑to‑ceiling window, smoking.

Through the curling blue smoke you could vaguely see his tightly knit brows, and the cold, chilling aura radiating from his whole body that made people shrink back.

Did she think she could shrug off all her crimes and be declared innocent?

Did she think he would forgive her?

How could that be possible?

He would never forgive her!

She would forever be a sinner!

So she had to spend her whole life paying this debt. She had to take responsibility for him to the very end!

He would not allow her to leave him, not allow her to escape. In the name of her sin, he would lock her firmly at his side.

At this moment the room door was pushed open, and a soft, girlish voice sounded. "Young Master, your coffee."

Morgan turned his eyes. Standing before him was a very pretty girl. "Who are you?"

"Young Master, Eleven is being punished to reflect facing the wall. I’m your new secretary, I’ll be responsible for taking care of you closely from now on."

Morgan recalled Willow under him telling him to go find other women, and his thin lips pressed together. He spoke to the pretty female secretary. "Come here."

The pretty secretary had only started two days ago, and Morgan hadn’t even noticed her. Now that he suddenly called her over, her lovely little face instantly flushed red.