Chapter 1 Is It Comfortable

Inside the Blossom Club, a young man stared at the woman occupying the main seat, admiration evident in his eyes. He cautiously massaged her shoulders, not daring to go further.

"Miss Tucker, how is it? Is it comfortable?" he asked.

Miley Tucker, nestled against his chest, responded lazily, "Yes."

Seeing this, Gavin Rowe arched an eyebrow and remarked, "Harold's back, but you're still here having fun."

Miley disregarded his comment, her attention briefly on her phone.

The image on her phone displayed her husband, Harold Wheeler, intimately close to another woman, their gentle expression suggesting a secretive flirtation under the cover of the night.

The photo, skillfully taken by a reporter, captured their closeness in a way that was suggestive but not lewd.

Harold had returned, yet he chose not to inform her.

Instead, he had left her to discover it through such an unexpected gesture.

Miley set her phone down.

Lifting her gaze, she gracefully accepted grapes from the young toy boy with her delicate fingers.

With a casual tone, she said, "We have an open marriage, after all."

In Rolrith, it was common knowledge that she and Harold didn't bind each other. To the public, they were the ideal couple, but in reality, they rarely meddled in each other's personal affairs except when necessary.

Why would Harold mind her having fun in a nightclub?

Gavin remained silent.

Miley resolved to make the most of her evening.

She ordered a series of strong drinks and drank them swiftly.

Soon, she felt tipsy and headed to the restroom.

When she came out of the restroom, the young, attractive toy boy offered his hand, asking, "Miss Tucker, may I escort you to your room?"

His gaze faintly reminded her of someone from her past.

Caught off guard, Miley caressed his cheek and said with a smile, "Sure, make me happy. Then, you'll have your reward."

As she was about to leave with him, a tall figure blocked her way.

The toy boy was stunned. "Sir..."

Miley looked up with hazy eyes. Before she could discern the man's face, he grabbed her wrist and drew her close.

A deep and mellow voice sounded in her ears, which was very familiar.

"Inform your manager I'll be taking her." The man shot a glance at the toy boy and carried Miley away.

The man's grip on Miley's wrist was so firm that it left her skin slightly reddened. She staggered after him and soon found herself thrown into the passenger seat.

The discomfort jolted her to a clearer state of mind.

As she regained her senses, she noticed the man sliding into the driver's seat, the car's light illuminating his sharp face.

Harold was dressed as he was in the photo taken by the reporter, with the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a hint of his chest. His glasses framed his intense eyes, giving him a look of cold allure yet sophisticated charm.

He looked gentle and refined, like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Miley bit her lip.

The next second, Harold lifted her effortlessly, placing her on his lap.

Miley's body was outlined by her tight dress, her buttocks pressed against his legs in an erotic manner.

She tried to get off his lap.

Yet, Harold's cool fingers tightened on her waist, firmly keeping her in place.

"You seem quite good at seeking pleasure." His voice was low and resonant.

Miley's heart skipped a beat.

Looking up, she saw her husband staring at her with an unreadable expression. He leaned closer and said in a low voice, "You'd go as far as to stay with a toy boy?"

Miley calmed herself down. "I have my needs. If my husband can't satisfy me, why shouldn't I look elsewhere?"

"You mean I didn't satisfy you?"

Harold slowly rolled up his sleeves and removed his suit jacket.

His eyes were burning with desire.

What he wanted to do was obvious.

As a matter of fact, it had been ages since they made love.

Miley offered no resistance.

The car was cramped, but Harold had a penchant for a thrill in their intimate moments.

Pressed against the steering wheel, Miley's soft sighs and moans filled the car.

"You are so horny," Harold said, his voice rough with desire.

He adjusted her position with a firm grip on her wrist.

When the sex was over, Miley was utterly exhausted.

Her fingers felt too weak to even twitch.

She slumped in the seat, Harold's coat draping over herself.

Her hand brushed against something in the coat's pocket. It was a small jewelry box.

She paused, then realized it was for a brooch.

Somehow, she breathed a sigh of relief.

The box had someone's initials, L. P.

Clearly, it was made just for someone.

"You're really quite the romantic." Miley's face darkened, turning away with a chill.

Everyone knew that Harold had a special someone, Leyla Pearson.

She was the Pearson family's illegitimate daughter and also Miley's half-sister...

This time, Harold had gone overseas with Leyla to treat her illness.

His disregard for Miley was clear. He offered her a glance and casually mentioned, "If you like it, I'll have my secretary arrange one for you."

Harold always acted this way.

He was generous with such small matters.

Miley dropped her gaze, overcome with boredom.

She returned the brooch, her eyes devoid of any jealousy.

"No need. I never share styles with anyone else."

Miley preferred not to dress in clothing or accessories that others had worn before.

Especially if it was something originally belonging to Leyla.

Soon after, Leyla made a call to Harold.

Her voice, over the phone, was gentle and sweet.

"Harold, I'm so grateful for you sending me overseas for my surgery. I might not have made it otherwise. I don't know how to thank you..."

"You're okay now, and that's what matters." Harold's response was brief.

Playing with her freshly polished nails, Miley said with a sneer, "It's simple. Pay him back with your body. After all, you've always been keen on taking what's mine. See if you can turn your brother-in-law into your husband. I'd be amused to see that."

Leyla had attempted such a thing before.

During Miley's wedding to Harold, Leyla had tried to disrupt it and even vowed to end her life.

Yet, she lacked the courage to leap from the 14th floor. Had she dared, she might have actually achieved her goal.

Miley couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity.

Leyla heard Miley's voice. She deliberately made her own louder and said, "Harold, I'm sorry to bother you. Is Miley upset with you? Please, don't fight with her over me. I understand Miley is mad about what happened with her mother. But it's been a while since her mother passed away. Why is she still taking her anger out on me?"

"Leyla, what you desire meant nothing to me." Miley remained calm. She said in an even tone, "If you continue spouting nonsense, I will ensure everyone knows who you really are."

Her voice was so cold that Leyla didn't dare to cross her again.

"Get some rest now. We'll discuss this tomorrow."

Harold ended the call quickly. He looked at Miley and said meaningfully, "You really hold a grudge."

Miley remained silent. She just looked down to hide her sadness.

If she were really vengeful, Leyla wouldn't be alive now.

Marrying Harold was never something she regretted.

What she did regret was allowing her mother to witness Leyla threatening to end her own life. Following that, Leyla and her father Joel Pearson had talked nonsense to her mother, leading to her mother's death from sheer anger.

From that point, Miley had left the Pearson family's house, changed her last name, and took charge of the Tucker Group. She harbored a hope that one day Leyla would bow down at her mother's grave and beg for forgiveness.

Yet, she had never anticipated Harold would stand by Leyla.