Substitute Bride: Utterly Pampered by Her Billionaire Husband

Chapter 1390: Let’s Have a Child Soon

Wesley Kingsley, "Morgan, who’s that little maid?"

Morgan Ashworth showed no emotion, merely stating, "Just a maid, irrelevant and not worth mentioning."

He was unwilling to discuss the maid, and Wesley Kingsley glanced twice at Willow Crawford, a thoughtful expression appearing in his eyes.

...

Willow Crawford could only return to sweeping the floor; she’d cursed Morgan Ashworth hundreds of times in her mind. Now he took pleasure in humiliating and teasing her—how hateful!

"Cynthia, you’re not needed here; go inside to serve." At this moment, the manager ordered.

Willow Crawford had no choice but to go in; Morgan Ashworth and Wesley Kingsley were already dining in the restaurant.

Willow Crawford stood silently to the side, trying to minimize her presence.

Morgan Ashworth observed Willow Crawford, she wished she could lower her head so much that she’d be in the dust, avoiding his gaze. Good, it seemed she feared his methods, but this was just the beginning.

He wasn’t done playing yet!

"You, come here." Morgan Ashworth said.

Willow Crawford felt a headache at the sound of his voice—he called her again.

"Cynthia, are you deaf?" Morgan Ashworth squinted his narrow eyes, waiting to see her wanting to get rid of him yet unable to.

Willow Crawford took a deep breath, continuously reminding herself to endure, endure, endure, "Master, I’m not deaf; I’m here. How may I serve you?"

Morgan Ashworth pointed at his plate with his eyes, "Cut my steak into small pieces."

"..." Don’t you have hands?

"Yes, master." Willow Crawford accepted the steak, beginning to "joyfully" cut it.

Wesley Kingsley sat across, looked at Willow Crawford and then laughed, "Morgan, let me cut the steak for you?"

"No need," Morgan Ashworth directly rejected, "Wesley, your hands are those of a noble lady; this crude work should be left to the lower maids."

Willow Crawford gritted her teeth internally—even when flaunting his affections, he didn’t forget to stamp on her viciously?

Wesley Kingsley’s gaze fell on Willow Crawford’s hands—her fingers were as white as scallions, likely more noble than her own, with an almost ethereal demeanor, not resembling a maid at all.

Wesley Kingsley grew more curious about Willow Crawford.

"Master, the steak is cut." Willow Crawford handed the cut steak to Morgan Ashworth.

Morgan Ashworth didn’t take it but opened his lips slightly, "Feed me."

"..." What, he wants to be fed too? Trying to become a complete waste?

"What, you have objections?"

"No, feeding the master steak is my honor. Master, open your mouth, ah." Willow Crawford smiled sweetly.

Morgan Ashworth opened his mouth, and Willow Crawford fed a piece of steak into it.

Just like that, a plate of steak was fed to Morgan Ashworth by Willow Crawford.

Wesley Kingsley suddenly found her steak lacking flavor, feeling a bit hard to swallow—wasn’t this just wanton display of their affection in front of her?

Wesley Kingsley felt she was supposed to be the main character, Morgan Ashworth’s presumptive fiancée. Yet, in front of Willow Crawford, it seemed she had become an irrelevant side character.

The meal ended under this peculiar atmosphere. Wesley Kingsley said, "Morgan, let’s go for a walk."

"Sure." Morgan Ashworth took Wesley Kingsley’s small hand, and they strolled in the back garden.

Willow Crawford was exhausted and hungry; here, they could only eat after the master finished. Now it was their time to eat.

Willow Crawford went to the dining area, where the surrounding maids stared at her with unfriendly eyes, pointing and muttering,

"Look, she’s Cynthia."

"Indeed, she’s somewhat attractive—just now the master specifically pointed her out to feed the steak. What kind of luck is this?"

"I think it’s the luck of a vixen—relying on her looks to deliberately seduce the master. She wants to climb into the master’s bed and become a phoenix."

"Don’t dream. Miss Kingsley is our mistress; how could a lowly maid be deserving?"

These maids all liked Morgan Ashworth; climbing into the master’s bed was likely every maid’s dream. They envied Wesley Kingsley but didn’t dare begrudge her. Yet why Willow Crawford? They were all maids, why did she rely on her looks to take shortcuts? Naturally, they felt unbalanced.

Willow Crawford hadn’t expected feeding steak to Morgan Ashworth would cause such a commotion—she hadn’t done it willingly.

Now Willow Crawford found the food was all gone, not a crumb left for her.

"Is there any food left?"

"No."

Such a cold reply left Willow Crawford speechless; she’d worked all morning and was hungry.

These people did it on purpose, deliberately eating all the food to isolate her—they were ostracizing her!

Gurgle.

Willow Crawford’s stomach rumbled again—she was hungry.

Willow Crawford went out, seeking something to fill her hunger, but at that moment, the driver approached, "Cynthia, come quickly."

"Where to?"

"The master is taking Miss Kingsley shopping for clothes; you’re to come along to help carry things."

"..."

...

The extended limo was waiting; Willow Crawford boarded, while Morgan Ashworth and Wesley Kingsley sat intimately together. Feeling awkward, Willow Crawford found a seat opposite them.

The limo started moving, and Morgan Ashworth and Wesley Kingsley chatted.

Wesley Kingsley asked, "Morgan, when are we getting married?"

"The date’s being picked—we’ll get married on an auspicious day next month."

"Next month? So soon?" Wesley Kingsley blushed shyly.

Morgan Ashworth cast Willow Crawford a barely noticeable glance, "I want to get married soon so we can have a child earlier."

"Oh, Morgan, you’re terrible~"

Willow Crawford felt an uncomfortable pang—bittersweet and stifling. Was he really going to marry and have children, making her witness it?

However, Wesley Kingsley was a good girl; she should wish them well, wish them happiness.

After all, she was no longer a complete woman—she couldn’t have children anymore.

Willow Crawford’s mind was wandering when suddenly the limo took a sharp turn, causing her to instinctively lurch forward.

The next moment, the entire cabin was silent.

Willow Crawford ended up sitting on Morgan Ashworth’s lap, her hands clasped around his neck.

Next to Morgan Ashworth was Wesley Kingsley, now looking at her while she looked at Morgan Ashworth. The three stared wide-eyed at each other; the sudden emergency made the cabin eerily quiet.

The limo stopped then, and the driver opened the door, "Master, sorry, just now..."

Oh my God!

The driver stared wide-eyed, shocked—what was the master playing at? Inside, the scene was just short of Wesley Kingsley sitting on his left leg, creating the picture-perfect image of an embrace.

"Sorry, master, I didn’t see anything—please continue...playing."