His love

1/2 

lan was clad in the same outfit from yesterday. His bloodshot eyes suggested a sleepless night. 

Willow couldn’t help but tear up when she recalled how lan had instructed Duncan to 

torture and assault her last night. What happened to his trust in her and his remark about her having the 

purest soul in the world? 

Taking a step back, she tried to address him calmly, “Mr. Nightingale, are you here to retrieve your jacket?” 

lan silently observed her face. Life was intriguing. Women whom he had known for years did not manage 

to make his heart flutter. 

Yet, Willow left a strong impression on him after he took a glimpse of her. He could never forget about her in this life, and he wouldn’t want to either. Her face was extremely pale. 

A layer of frost lined her wind–caressed cheeks. Her pale and tiny face made her appear more vulnerable, as if she’d fall apart if he held her. 

His gaze traveled from her face to her neck. The obvious red marks on her neck were proof of violent strangulation. 

He furrowed his brows at the jarring sight of the scary red marks. His frown deepened when he noticed 

the deep scratch–about the length of a thumb–on the back of her right hand. 

He had wanted to reach out to examine the injury on the back of her hand when his attention was drawn 

to her bandaged left hand. Blood continued seeping out of the gauze, and to his astonishment, he noticed. the missing pinky finger on her left hand. 

Eyes wavering, he approached her for a better look at her left hand, only for her to back off. “Mr. Nightingale, could you please step aside?” Staring at her feet, she struggled to conceal her 

embarrassment. 

*Please make way so I can open the door and get you your jacket.” 

After he stepped aside, Willow clutched the key and limped to the door. Last night, she twisted her ankle 

when Matthew shoved her. Despite the pain, she stood straight and tall. 

Knowing that lan looked down on her, she knew she’d only disgust him by acting deferential. She wanted to defend her dignity and refused to be perceived as inferior and filthy. 

Due to the agonizing pain, she struggled to open the door. After clumsily opening the door, she headed to the couch. She had wanted to grab lan’s suit and jacket from him, but she refrained from doing so since 

he had entered the room with her. 

Her hands were slightly dirty, and she wouldn’t want to soil his jacket. Ian did not take his jacket. Instead, his eyes were glued to Willow’s face, never once looking away. Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

She 

softly reminded him, “Mr. Nightingale, your jacket is on the couch.” 

Since lan refused to move, she wiped down her less–injured right hand with a wet napkin and carefully