A young man wearing a black bathrobe walked out of the bathroom.
His skin was snow-white, his facial features dazzling and handsome, the exquisite brows and eyes even slightly diminished his inherent aura, making one feel almost subjugated to his appearance at first glance.
Charlotte Smith's eyes widened uncontrollably, her pupils contracted violently, rendering her completely stunned.
This man...
How could she not recognize this man?
It was Robert Stephens at twenty-one.
At this time, his legs were intact, he moved freely, and most importantly, this was the most glorious and triumphant period of his life...
Had she gone mad?
The man's action of towel-drying his hair paused, seeing her dazed expression, he lightly squinted his dark eyes, walked over and leaned down to touch her cheek.
