Chloe Grant’s academic life had never been accompanied by her parents picking her up, not even for a single day.
But similarly, to provide for her, to ensure the family lived well, her parents, exhausted, also had no child next to them to playfully demand attention.
"Dad..." Chloe Grant walked towards her father, embracing him!
Faced with her parents, Chloe Grant was unlike other children; she wouldn’t cling to her parents, or say things like "I love you, I miss you."
And this hug... was the first in her life so far!
The first time she took the initiative to hug Dad...
It turns out that Dad’s embrace was really so broad, so comfortable, and made her feel so at ease.
The always stern father, his embrace was so warm and soft.
After Matthew Morgan left the old residence, he returned to his own villa.
At the same time, the doctor was waiting for him at the villa.
Matthew Morgan got out of the car, entered the villa, and took off his shirt, revealing his strong upper body.
His muscle lines were clear and defined, sexy.
Scars on his arms and chest, seemingly aged, gave his whole demeanor a wild, dark allure.
When dressed, Matthew Morgan always appeared rather aloof, stern, noble, somewhat slim... but once undressed, he appeared completely different.
In fact, even the male doctor beside him was somewhat entranced while looking on.
Even though he had always been treating the wounds on Matthew Morgan’s back, having seen him undress many times before.
But each time he looked, he was even more dazzled and mesmerized than before.
If the clothed Matthew Morgan was the elite in the business world, a king walking in the sun—proud, noble!
Then the undressed Matthew Morgan was a dominator in a hail of bullets in the dark, bloodthirsty, dangerous!
The doctor looked somewhat dazed, Matthew Morgan shot him a glance, and only then did he react, hurriedly tending to Matthew Morgan’s wounds.
The wound on the back was once again in a dire state, and now the arm was also injured.
"Sir, you must... be careful, if you go on ..."
Matthew Morgan impatiently shot the doctor a look.
The doctor immediately dared not speak further, silently tending to Matthew Morgan’s wounds.
Once everything was done, Matthew Morgan didn’t have the time to put on clothes as a video call came on his phone.
The doctor packed up and hurriedly left.
The man in the video sat on a dark red sofa, legs crossed, a glass of red wine in hand, "I heard you got injured again, congratulations."
The words were clearly laced with mockery.
Matthew Morgan tossed back coldly, "What’s up?"
The man put down the wine, leaned forward towards the phone, "I just heard about your injury, so I came to inquire about your mood.
Logically speaking, there are so many women out there, as long as you say the word, where wouldn’t they readily come to you? Why insist on clinging onto a silly girl, not letting go?"
"Not just women, but men as well can be yours!" he added another line.
Moreover, he looked into the camera with extraordinary seriousness, his deep eyes full of affection, as if gazing at someone he cherished.
Matthew Morgan furrowed his brows and coldly shot back, "Don’t disgust me."
Just as Matthew Morgan was about to turn his gaze away, his eyes suddenly sharpened, piercing, "You’re not in country Y?"
The man in the video paused, hurriedly saying, "Ha, what a joke you’re making!"
His tone was noticeably louder than before.
Matthew Morgan’s eyes narrowed dangerously, mercilessly exposing him, "The position of the painting behind you has changed."