Willow Crawford looked at Morgan Ashworth, "Are you really going to take me to Westria? If my brother finds out about my whereabouts... aren’t you afraid I’ll leave you?"

Morgan Ashworth curled his thin lips and responded with a question, "Willow, would you leave me?"

Willow Crawford reached out and hugged Morgan Ashworth’s strong waist, resting her little head on his shoulder and softly said, "No, regardless of what lies ahead, I will always, always stay by your side."

Morgan Ashworth held Willow Crawford in his embrace, "Willow, my time is running out. As long as you accompany me well for this final journey, after I die, I will return you to your family."

...

Morgan Ashworth set off with Willow Crawford and soon reached Westria.

However, Morgan Ashworth didn’t rush to meet Ethan Barnes and instead checked into a nearby hotel. He took Willow Crawford out for a walk to get some fresh air.

The two arrived at an art exhibition, and Willow Crawford said, "Let’s go in and take a look."

"Alright."

Entering the exhibition, Willow Crawford was quickly captivated by a painting. It depicted scenery from a harvest-filled autumn day, the sky high and clear, with no clouds in sight, presenting a view of golden wheat. The earth exuded tranquility and beauty.

What a beautiful painting.

It’s hard to articulate why it’s good, but like the strings of a harp, it easily touches your soul.

Willow Crawford’s heart skipped inexplicably, suddenly feeling an unprecedented sense of familiarity toward the painting.

Below the painting was a signature: angel.

Angel, like an angel.

Willow Crawford quickly turned to the exhibition staff, "Hello."

The staff approached immediately, "Hello, Miss. How can I assist you?"

"Is this painting angel’s work? Is angel an artist?" Willow Crawford asked.

The staff smiled, "Yes, Miss. This painting is by angel. About five years ago, angel gained fame with a single piece, and since then, each of her works has been purchased at a high price after exhibition, sometimes even auctioned. Our painting here is not for sale. Angel not only explores exhibitions but is also a favorite in the fashion sector, now a chief fashion designer."

Willow Crawford’s heart raced even faster, "Do you have a photo of angel? I’ve come to admire her and want to see what she looks like."

The staff shook his head, "I’m sorry, Miss. We encounter many visitors like you who come hoping to see angel. However, angel has never shown her face. We don’t have her photo nor have we seen her appearance, and we don’t even know her gender."

Is that so?

Willow Crawford felt a bit disappointed and wanted to say more, "Well..."

But at that moment, Morgan Ashworth came over, "Willow, what are you looking at?"

Willow Crawford was startled. Actually, upon seeing the painting, she guessed it was done by Celeste Linden.

Angel is Celeste Linden.

The Celeste who struggled in the mire five years ago, yearning to be unsullied by her fate, has undergone a perfect transformation, emerged anew.

Now Celeste is an artist at exhibitions, known as angel, and also the chief fashion designer angel.

Yet, this is only Willow Crawford’s speculation; she isn’t certain and dares not tell Morgan Ashworth.

Ethan Barnes mentioned in a letter that Morgan Ashworth should trade Celeste for collaboration. Willow Crawford couldn’t decipher Morgan’s intentions, so she dared not use Celeste as a test.

Celeste has embraced the sunshine and warmth she desired with all her might. How can one, with any heart, push her back to Ethan Barnes, a demon? How can she be cast into hell once more?

"I’m... I’m not looking at anything..." Willow Crawford wasn’t good at lying, and her words came out stuttered.

Morgan Ashworth narrowed his eyes and was about to look at the painting, "Hiding something from me?"

Seeing Celeste in the painting, if Morgan Ashworth glimpses it, he’d surely guess it’s Celeste’s work. Willow Crawford, thinking quickly in distress, raised a hand to her forehead, "I’m a bit dizzy."

She fell into Morgan Ashworth’s arms as she spoke.

Morgan Ashworth immediately reached out to catch Willow Crawford, asking with concern, "What’s wrong? Why are you dizzy out of the blue? Are you feeling unwell?"

"I think I’m a bit hungry..."

Morgan Ashworth pinched her little nostril, "Really just hungry?"

"I have low blood sugar; when I get hungry and don’t eat, I feel dizzy." Willow Crawford batted her lashes, trying hard to feign innocence.

Morgan Ashworth said, "Then I’ll take you to eat now. What do you want to eat tonight?"

"I want... a seafood feast."

"Consider it arranged!"

...

Morgan Ashworth truly took Willow Crawford for a seafood feast. Willow Crawford was preoccupied. At this critical moment, the long-absent Celeste suddenly surfaced; she couldn’t shake a bad premonition.

She wanted to contact Celeste, firstly to see how she’s doing and secondly to warn her about the lurking danger here.

But after thinking it over, she gave up. Her actions were limited now, fearing any mishap.

Actually, no news is the best news. It’s best to let Celeste enjoy happiness and stability where they can’t know. Ignoring her situation shows Willow Crawford’s best love for Celeste.

Willow Crawford reasoned with herself, and with Morgan Ashworth feeding her, she filled her belly until it was round.

The two walked hand in hand back to the hotel. Just as they were about to enter the lobby, a commotion reached their ears.

The hotel’s security personnel moved in, "Move quickly, a very influential person is coming, we need to clear the area."

The security cleared everyone out and quickly set up a perimeter line.

Morgan Ashworth held Willow Crawford’s little hand on the steps when, with a loud "whoosh," several camouflage jeep cars sped forward from afar.

The vehicles moved rapidly, extremely boldly, kicking up a cloud of dust in their path.

Willow Crawford instinctively covered her eyes with her hand due to the glaring headlights.

Morgan Ashworth extended his hand, shielding Willow Crawford’s face in his embrace. When she looked up again, she saw a letter "H" on the jeeps.

H.

Ethan Barnes.

Willow Crawford realized that familiar faces had arrived.

Rumor has it Ethan Barnes has declared himself a king in the south; such pomp, truly impressive!

"Look, King Hayden is here!"

"Run quickly, don’t stare, stay far from King Hayden."

"I feel like I can smell blood on King Hayden, don’t invite trouble."

Suddenly, everyone ran away, leaving only Morgan Ashworth and Willow Crawford.

At that moment, the jeeps halted. Before the driver could open the car door, the passenger door was pulled open, and a tall, handsome figure jumped directly out of the vehicle.

The sturdy black army boots hit the ground with a heavy thud, above them were camouflage pants over long legs, a leather belt casually cinched at the waist, and then a white T-shirt, Ethan Barnes had arrived.

In five years, Ethan Barnes’ handsome facial features had become even more profound and rugged. His hair cropped short, brash and unruly, rebellious to the core.

Ethan Barnes stood at the bottom of the steps, hands tucked in his pockets, chewing gum, and looked up, smiling, "Brother-in-law, long time no see."