Morgan Ashworth stiffened, then quickly reached out to grasp her soft waist, pushing her back, pinning Willow Crawford against the wall and his embrace.

"What game are you playing this time, hmm?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

Willow Crawford’s slender white fingers tightly clutched his shirt at his waist, "Morgan Ashworth, I don’t want to leave with anyone else."

"Hmm?"

"Willow Crawford, the First Princess, is dead, so let her be dead. I don’t want to go back."

"And then?"

"And then, can you...not marry anyone else?" Willow looked up at him with watery eyes.

Morgan Ashworth said nothing.

Willow Crawford’s lashes trembled, "I was wrong in the past, I owe you. From now on... I’ll stay here to atone, you can do anything to me as long as you don’t marry anyone else. Morgan Ashworth, I have never forgotten that promise from five years ago. I’m here to fulfill it now, but do you still want me?"

The promise from five years ago...

What promise?

The promise was that she would no longer be Princess Willow Crawford, and he would no longer be the Young Master of The Merfolk Kingdom, Morgan Ashworth. They would cast aside their identities and always be together.

Willow Crawford no longer wanted to deceive herself; she simply couldn’t let go of Morgan Ashworth. Everyone’s personality is different; she didn’t like being a princess or a princess consort. She admits she has a bit of a love-struck, naïve personality. She only wanted to be with the boy she liked.

Now she has returned by following her heart’s choice, ready to fulfill the promise from five years ago. However, she doesn’t know if he still wants her.

Morgan Ashworth looked at the light in her eyes; she gazed at him so eagerly. Slowly, she began to overlap with the image of the teenage Willow Crawford in his memory, and he couldn’t help but feel befuddled. It seemed she hadn’t changed at all over these years; she was still the girl he loved the most.

Morgan Ashworth curled his thin lips, "That depends on your performance."

"What performance?"

"I haven’t decided yet. After all... you’re no longer who you were then. A married woman, with a child, hardly holds any competitive advantage here."

In the end, Morgan Ashworth was still bothered by her marriage to Prince Rosen, and the fact that she had borne a son for him.

He didn’t know if other men might be more forgiving; after all, many say love means accepting her past. However, Morgan Ashworth admitted he was intensely jealous and petty. He was wildly jealous of everything about Prince Rosen, and whenever he thought of Rosen once having her, he became angry.

Only then did Willow Crawford realize she hadn’t explained the matters with Prince Rosen before. Back then, she was the First Princess, unable to speak of it. Now it’s different, she can speak.

Fool, idiot, Prince Rosen was already dead, she was still the same her from years ago.

Her heart, her body, were clean, untouched by anyone.

"Morgan Ashworth, I..." Willow Crawford was about to speak when Morgan Ashworth’s kiss overwhelmed her.

Willow Crawford placed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. Morgan Ashworth frowned displeased, "Is this your performance?"

"..." Willow Crawford immediately stopped moving, her slender white fingers clutched his shirt, and she slowly closed her eyes.

She loved his touch, loved his kisses.

Willow Crawford responded to him with innocent boldness.

She was undeniably igniting the fire, as Morgan Ashworth gripped her soft waist, pressing her into his embrace, greedily savoring her beauty and sweetness like a storm.

Willow Crawford was dizzy from the kiss, and just then, Morgan Ashworth picked her up horizontally.

She was thrown onto the bed, and just as she was about to rise, he pressed down from above.

Looking down at her, Morgan Ashworth’s eyes were filled with fiery desire. He reached out, his fingertips landing on the buttons of her shirt.

"Morgan Ashworth, don’t..." Willow Crawford wanted to stop him.

"What, you don’t want to?" Morgan Ashworth retorted, "Or do you want to catch a wolf with bare hands like five years ago?"

"I didn’t catch a wolf with bare hands..."

"Really? Then who was it five years ago that ignited me so much I couldn’t stop?"

Five years ago, even though he was ignited like that, he couldn’t bear to touch her, and as a result, Prince Rosen took the opportunity first.

Thinking of this, Morgan Ashworth was unwilling to wait any longer, he had to possess her completely and thoroughly.

He wanted to make her his own.

Willow Crawford bit her red lip lightly, only daring to refute inwardly, it wasn’t her teasing him, it was him teasing her every time.

Now, if he wanted it, then she was willing.

She was willing to become his woman.

Willow Crawford slowly released her hand, giving up the struggle, her stunningly beautiful face already vividly flushed, pure black hair scattered messily on the pillow, she shyly turned her head, not daring to look at him.

Seeing her consent, Morgan Ashworth curled his lips, then unbuttoned her shirt one by one...

After an unknown amount of time, noises came from outside; it seemed like Eleven was speaking, "Miss Kingsley, sorry, my master is already resting, you can’t go in."

"Step aside, I want to see Young Master Ashworth now!" It was Wesley Kingsley.

Willow Crawford instantly awoke in bed, remembering Morgan Ashworth’s engagement to Wesley Kingsley, and now she and Morgan Ashworth were in bed... it felt like they were cheating illicitly.

Such shame made Willow Crawford reach out, her slender white fingers threading through his short hair, pushing him from her chest, "Morgan Ashworth, Miss Kingsley is here..."

Her voice was clearly rejecting him, but sounded too soft and powerless, a case of wanting to reject but welcoming.

Morgan Ashworth’s kisses traveled upwards, falling onto her neck, his voice hoarse and nearly indistinguishable, "What does it matter, don’t waste time on insignificant people."

That was Wesley Kingsley, his fiancée, not an insignificant person.

"Morgan Ashworth..." Willow Crawford called his name, wanting him to go out and take a look.

At that moment, the door suddenly opened, and Wesley Kingsley appeared in their view, "Young Master Ashworth, you..."

Ah!

Willow Crawford exclaimed in surprise, and Morgan Ashworth reacted instantly, quickly pulling the quilt over Willow Crawford, then his crimson eyes shot towards the door like ice dipped in poison, "Barging into someone’s room, is this the education and manners Miss Kingsley received?"

Wesley Kingsley stood frozen at the door, also not expecting to see this scene.

Currently, Morgan Ashworth sat at the edge of the bed, blocking Willow Crawford with his well-built body, her figure hidden, only the hastily covered quilt faintly visible, her exposed bare shoulders tempting and alluring.

Wesley Kingsley wasn’t foolish; she could easily tell what had happened between Morgan Ashworth and Willow Crawford.

Wesley Kingsley stepped into the room, raising her hand to slap Morgan Ashworth.