His Sole Desire

Lanesher Chateau, a truly wealthy neighborhood.

The Morris Family.

In the bedroom on the second floor, the lights were turned off, enveloping the room in darkness.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning tore through the night sky, illuminating the white walls of the room and revealing a tall and cold-looking man standing by the bed.

Arlo Avila leaned against the bedpost of the princess bed, rolling up his sleeves and swaying a glass of red wine in his hand. His expression was relaxed, carrying a hint of laziness and sexiness.

His gaze fell upon the girl sleeping on the bed.

With flowing hair, red lips, and fair skin, she was indeed a troublemaker with her stunning beauty.

The sweet taste of the red wine, combined with her exquisite face, was truly pleasing to the eye.

He had been here for half an hour, yet the girl on the bed hadn't noticed him at all. She truly lacked even a hint of vigilance.

He had known this about her lack of vigilance since the first time he entered her bedroom five years ago.

But...

This knowledge was particularly irritating to him tonight.

After tonight, he would move out of the Morris Family. Perhaps... he would never have a chance to see her like this again.

Maybe it would be the last time.

A tinge of complexity and profoundness appeared in Avila's usually calm eyes.

Lara Morris was sleeping restlessly, tossing and turning as thunder rumbled outside.

Suddenly, a foot emerged from beneath the thin blanket.

It was a small and delicate foot, like white jade. Even her feet were so beautiful that they sparked his imagination.

A smirk appeared, tinged with a hint of drunkenness, as he walked over with a glass of red wine in hand.

He sat down.

Bending down, he gently grasped the girl's transparent and slender ankle. With his throat bobbing, the man planted a light kiss on her, leaving behind a wine-colored mark.

Exquisite and extravagant.

The name Lara Morris was like a brand, more like a shackle that couldn't be erased with time. It was unclear who had locked whom.

Boom!

With a loud clap of thunder, the girl on the bed suddenly woke up from her nightmare. In the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a figure at the foot of the bed, causing her to scream in fear.

"It's me."

A cold voice rang out as Avila released the girl's ankle, his handsome face returning to indifference, his aura icy.

"..."

Lara held her chest, still shaken, and sat up, reaching out to turn on the bedside lamp.

In the ample light, she saw him clearly.

Anger immediately welled up on the girl's beautiful and proud face, followed by accusations, "What are you doing in my room like a ghost?"

Avila sat down at the end of the bed and spoke in a calm and collected voice, "Did I scare you?"

"Who gave you permission to sit on my bed?" She pulled the covers up to her chest and furrowed her brows with disdain, "It's filthy, stand up!"

With a slight smile in his deep eyes, Avila, considering her slight cleanliness obsession, actually obediently stood up.

He walked towards her and placed his wine glass on the bedside table, glancing at the documents placed on top with a somewhat distant expression, "I just finished dealing with some company matters and the servant said you were resting in your room, so I came to check on you. I apologize if I scared you."

Apologize?

She couldn't detect even the slightest bit of remorse in his tone.

Lara let out a cold laugh, her expression filled with pride and sarcasm, "Mr. Avila was just elected president today, and now he can do whatever he wants in Emberton City. There's no need for modesty when apologizing to me, a pathetic person like myself. I'm afraid I couldn't bear it."

"If you can't bear it then don't..."

He hesitated for a moment, then handed her the documents from the bedside table. Returning from the realm of illusions to reality, his voice no longer carried any warmth, "Sign it, and tomorrow the frozen bank account will be unfrozen. You don't have to go around begging for money for your father's surgery anymore."

"... "

Lara glanced at the document, a stock transfer agreement.

Five big words, each filled with anger.

She picked up the document and crumpled it into a ball, then forcefully threw it at his handsome and cold face, "Get out!"