Substitute Bride: Utterly Pampered by Her Billionaire Husband Chapter 1475: Coughing Blood

Willow Crawford looked at Morgan Ashworth and finally whispered, "Forget it, hubby. In the future... please forget me..."

It would be far better for him to forget her.

For if he constantly kept her in his heart, he would surely feel pain. She certainly did not want him to suffer.

As long as he remained healthy and happy, that would be more than enough.

Willow placed a gentle kiss upon his forehead, "Goodbye, my love. It is possible we may never meet again."

...

Morgan Ashworth dreamt, a sweet dream, where he saw Willow Crawford.

Willow sat beside his bed, her soft fingers tenderly touching his handsome face, and she even kissed him.

She seemed to be saying something to him, but he couldn’t quite hear it clearly. He tried hard to listen and then felt something wet upon his face, like tears were falling. He opened his eyes.

He was in his room, lying on his bed, with a hand resting gently on his face.

This hand was real; it truly existed. Someone was touching his face.

As it turned out, she had always been by his side.

It seemed he wasn’t dreaming after all.

Morgan reached out and grabbed that small hand, tightly wrapping it within his palm, "Willow, I..."

The very next second, he clearly saw the person beside the bed; it was... Wesley Kingsley.

It wasn’t Willow Crawford at all, but Wesley Kingsley.

Wesley blushed upon realizing he grabbed the small hand and asked with concern, "Master Ashworth, you are awake?"

Morgan paused for a few seconds and then quickly released the hand and sat up, "Why is it you?"

Wesley stiffened, "Master Ashworth, if it were not me, then who did you think it was?"

Morgan pressed his thin lips together, his dark eyes scanning the room for the person he truly wanted, but he couldn’t find her. His expression turned ominous, dark enough to drip water, "Where is Willow? Where is she?"

"Master Ashworth..."

Wesley couldn’t finish her sentence because Morgan, lacking any patience, lifted the quilt and got out of bed, "Someone come!"

Eleven and a maid rushed in, "Master, what are your orders?"

"Where is my wife? Where did she go?" Morgan barked coldly.

The maid lowered her head in fright, and Eleven hesitantly looked at Morgan, stammering, "Master, the madam... she..."

"Speak up, are you stuttering?" Morgan shouted, his eyes bloodshot.

"Master, the madam was taken back by the Crawford family."

What?

She was taken away?

Did she leave while he was unconscious?

Impossible.

It couldn’t be.

She would never run away while he was unconscious.

"I’m going to find her now. I have to bring her back!" Morgan dashed out the door.

He wasn’t even wearing shoes, now barefoot on the cold floor, hurrying with Willow in his mind and heart. Wesley stood dumbfounded, watching the man she remembered as indifferent, aloof, and always composed, now acting completely possessed.

It was the first time Wesley saw him exhibit such behavior, so she was shocked.

Eleven immediately stepped forward to block his path, "Master, don’t go after her. She won’t come back."

"Impossible, she will come back."

"Master, the madam left you a message."

"What message?"

"The madam said, you should forget her."

Morgan’s steps suddenly halted. He looked at Eleven, his eyes filled with bloodshot veins, his handsome face twisted with rage, staring at Eleven like a wild beast wishing to tear her apart.

"She couldn’t have said that. That message isn’t hers!" he said, gritting his teeth, one word at a time.

"Master, you have to accept reality. The madam is gone. Even if you find her and bring her back, you can retain her physically, but not her heart. Why force a woman who doesn’t love you?"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Morgan charged forward, grabbing Eleven by the collar, "What do you know? You know nothing. She loves me. We are already married, and she’s carrying my child. How could she not love me?"

"I understand now. She must be angry at me for being cold to her recently. She must be upset about my rash actions last night. She’s throwing a tantrum at me. It’s okay. I’ll go to apologize to her now. I’ll beg her to come back. I’ll plead. Is that okay?"

Morgan shouted out his intention to beg her, leaving the entire room in silence.

Wesley stood upstairs, watching the possessed man, the man who was always so proud and now seemingly delusional, wanting to beg Willow to come back. She couldn’t understand what kind of deep love could compel a man to act this way.

What pride, what dignity, he had thrown it all away.

Willow Crawford, that woman, had driven him mad.

Eleven looked painfully at Morgan, "Master, enough. Even if you beg her, she won’t come back."

As she spoke, Eleven took out something and handed it to Morgan, "Master, this is what the madam left for you."

What?

Morgan took the item, which was a document. Five bold words were on it: Divorce Agreement.

A divorce agreement.

Morgan looked at the five words over and over, his eyes turning red, his throat surging with blood.

Divorce...

Her intent was to serve him with divorce papers.

Morgan vividly recalled the day she secretly obtained the household registry and married him. In that moment, she had embraced him with affection, professing her unending love and vowing never to leave his side again, promising a lifetime together.

Yet, this was what she presented to him now.

What was the reason?

Indeed, what could be the reason?

A stark realization dawned upon Morgan: he had never truly known her. Her affection was akin to a reflection in water, shattering into pieces at the slightest touch.

Ha.

How utterly preposterous.

Clutching the divorce agreement, Morgan declared, "Even if she sends this to me, I must hear it directly from her lips. Any message relayed through others holds no validity. I need her to tell me herself that she desires a divorce; only then will I believe it. I shall depart immediately to bring her back."

A thought struck him, and he murmured, "She will undoubtedly return with me. She carries my child—this is my most potent bargaining chip. I am the child's father, and surely she would not wish for her child to be born without one. Even if I use the child to tether her, it will serve its purpose."

Eleven, with tear-filled eyes, observed his master, comprehending the profound and all-consuming love he held for Willow, a love so immense it made him feel insignificant.

Perhaps this was also why he harbored a dislike for Willow.

Throughout the annals of history, love has invariably been the most potent source of pain.

If only he possessed a lesser degree of sincerity; however, he was the devoted type, unwavering and passionate for a lifetime.

Morgan strode out with resolute determination to bring Willow back.

However, mere steps into his departure, blood surged uncontrollably in his throat. He coughed up blood, collapsing right there on the spot.