Want!

Morgan Ashworth certainly wants!

Is there any man in this world who doesn’t want his beloved woman to bear his children? He wants it.

She has already given Prince Rosen a son. The image of her, Rosen, and the little prince standing together as a family of three that day still deeply pierces his eyes. He also wants a child that belongs to him and her.

Actually, he wouldn’t mind if it were a daughter. A daughter she bears would surely resemble her, and he would love her very much.

As long as she’s the one to give birth.

"Miles, I’ve already agreed to you being together, so you need to make Willow Crawford pregnant as soon as possible. I can only officially recognize her status once she bears your flesh and blood and offspring."

...

Morgan Ashworth saw Willow Crawford downstairs, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, lost in thought. She seemed a bit absent-minded.

"Master, just now the young master of The Western Reaches came, chatted briefly with Miss Crawford, and then left," a subordinate quietly reported.

Morgan Ashworth pursed his thin lips, feeling slightly displeased. He did not wish for Willow Crawford to meet any other men; he only wanted to bind her to his side, so that her eyes and heart were only for him.

Morgan Ashworth walked over and embraced her, burying his head in her cascading hair to deeply inhale her scent, he softly asked, "Did you meet with the young master of The Western Reaches earlier?"

Willow Crawford came back to her senses, "Yes, I did."

"What did you talk about?"

"Not much, the young master of The Western Reaches is leaving tomorrow."

"You seem a little reluctant."

Willow Crawford turned to look at him, "Morgan Ashworth, are you... jealous?"

As she spoke, Willow Crawford pinched his handsome face, "Just a few words with the young master of The Western Reaches and you get jealous? You’re really petty, a big jar of vinegar!"

Morgan Ashworth turned her around and tightened her soft waist to draw her into his embrace, "Tell me, what did you talk to him about earlier?"

Willow Crawford wrapped her arms around his neck, "I said... I couldn’t leave with him because the one I love is you, and I want to be with you forever."

Morgan Ashworth’s gloomy face immediately softened, "Willow Crawford, you better not lie to me, or else..."

Willow Crawford stood on tiptoe and hugged him, "Morgan Ashworth, I’m not lying to you, you must believe me."

Can he trust her?

Five years ago, he trusted her like that, but she dealt him a heavy blow.

Morgan Ashworth feels a bit disdainful of himself because he now has the answer; he chooses to give Willow Crawford another chance, to trust her once more.

"Why did you change what you call me?" Morgan Ashworth kissed her silky hair.

"What?"

"Previously, you liked calling me Miles Linden, you said you didn’t like Morgan Ashworth, you said you loved Miles Linden the boy."

Now she no longer calls him Miles Linden, which was their youthful days. Her voice calling "Miles Linden" was filled with immense fondness for him.

But now, she calls him Morgan Ashworth.

Willow Crawford’s heart ached because she had said Miles Linden was her greatest love, so was he always being Miles Linden?

Only now does Willow Crawford understand, these years, he’s never truly left.

He’s always stayed in place, waiting for her.

"Whether you are Morgan Ashworth or Miles Linden, you are both the same person, the one I love."

Morgan Ashworth slowly closed his eyes and hugged her tighter, it was only now that he felt a bit of reality and safety.

"Morgan Ashworth, can I... call my mom?" Willow Crawford suddenly made the request.

Morgan Ashworth stiffened, pushing Willow Crawford away slightly, "What do you want?"

The atmosphere between them sharply declined due to this request; Willow Crawford grasped his sleeve, quietly explaining, "I don’t want anything, I just... miss my mom. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything careless, I’ll tell my mom I’m with you, I..."

"Do you think your dad and mom wouldn’t do anything if they knew you were still alive? You are their Aurora, the first thing they’d do is definitely get you back!"

"No, I’ll explain everything clearly to my mom. They’ve always respected my choices..."

"Enough!" Morgan Ashworth forcefully withdrew his sleeve, "No way! There’s no discussion to be had on this matter!"

"Morgan Ashworth, I..."

"If you want to continue this topic, then I have reasonable suspicion that you’ve been acting these past couple days, trying to gain my trust to play tricks."

Willow Crawford quickly fell silent, not daring to speak further, as the trust Morgan Ashworth painstakingly built toward her couldn’t collapse now.

"Morgan Ashworth, fine, I won’t mention it again, don’t be angry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made you upset." Willow Crawford reached for Morgan Ashworth’s hand.

Morgan Ashworth didn’t let her touch him, "I have something to do, I’ll get busy now."

With that, he turned and went upstairs directly into the study.

Watching the study door close in front of her, Willow Crawford felt a bit despondent. Actually, she wanted to ask her mom about the heart-severing herb; her mom was a divine healer, surely she could figure out a way to save Morgan Ashworth.

But he doesn’t trust her.

Clearly, he is very reluctant and uneasy about her connecting with the outside world. As soon as she makes any moves, he becomes like a hedgehog, wary and defensive.

...

In the study.

Morgan Ashworth worked until the evening, his mind restless, only work could suppress his irritation, but even so, he smoked many cigarettes.

Last night, Willow Crawford had reconciled with him, equivalent to giving him a candy, yet, in less than a day, her fox-like tail seemed about to show.

She surely still wants to return!

Honestly, he could understand her wanting her mom and home, but he wouldn’t let her go. Her family couldn’t possibly accept him; partly due to his identity, and partly because of his health—his remaining time is limited, and he doesn’t want any accidents.

At this moment, "knock knock" sounded; someone was at the door.

Morgan Ashworth frowningly puffed on a cigarette, a word escaping his thin lips, "Enter."

The study door opened, and someone walked in.

Morgan Ashworth didn’t look up, his focus fixed on the document in his hands; those entering are likely just servants.

A slender white hand reached over, snatched away the cigarette, and extinguished it in the ashtray.

Morgan Ashworth looked up — it was Willow Crawford.

Willow Crawford blinked her bright, watery eyes at him, "Master, you can’t smoke, smoking harms health."

What is she playing at?

Morgan Ashworth looked at Willow Crawford; she wore a maid’s outfit, a cat-ear maid headband on her head, her complexion creamy white and stunning, evocatively like a uniform play.

"Master, here’s the coffee I made for you, taste it. You’ve been working so long, you must be tired. Let me massage your back and shoulders." Willow Crawford sweetly chirped.