All of the above applied to average men.
But, if Julian Winslow's possessiveness were ever provoked, what would he do? He didn't even know the answer himself... because no one had ever truly succeeded in doing so.
Inside the pitch-black study of Winslow Garden, a man sat quietly at an antique desk. Half of his face was concealed in the darkness, while a ray of silvery moonlight from the window illuminated the other half of his handsome features. The illuminated side bore a warm, faint smile, yet upon closer inspection, the half hidden in the shadows seemed to exude a fierce sternness.
He mused to himself, "Shalma! You truly don't care about me... How wonderful! For the position of the Head of Winslow Family, there is truly no one more suitable than you."
Just as Shalma Hughes was on the verge of growing mold from lying in the hospital for so long, a visitor arrived at her ward.
