A dark room, with tightly drawn curtains, only the panting and screams and the entwining bodies of a man and a woman.
Although the man was no longer young, and a life of comfort had made his physique less robust and energetic than that of a young man, he was still well-maintained.
"So? Aren't Hughes Family men all exceptional?" The middle-aged man sat up from the bed and put on his clothes. The woman lying on the bed had a voluptuous body covered in marks from a wild night—bruises, bites that almost drew blood.
"I've heard your wife used to be very beautiful. Can't she satisfy you?" This man was extremely wealthy, and she had worked at the Hughes Clan for a while but had rarely heard rumors about him. He seemed devoted to his wife. But it turned out, all men were the same—fickle.
