The study was filled with their presence—books scattered across the desk, chairs, and even the sofa, bearing the aftermath of their passionate encounter.

To Layla Evans’ horror, many of the new books she had just gotten from school were now stained. Sweat and other "fluids" had left them in a condition far too embarrassing to bring to class. It would be humiliating to show up at school with books like that.

"Hmm, yeah, I suppose these aren’t exactly fit for school anymore," Trevor Moore said, flipping through one of the books with a mischievous smile. He seemed to be enjoying the sight of the mess, as it was proof of their earlier intensity and closeness.

"This is all your fault! What am I going to do now?" Layla asked, exasperated.

Trevor raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"Then I just won’t go to school. The books are ruined anyway," Layla said, seizing the opportunity. She had never been a fan of school and now had a convenient excuse.

"No school? Then I’ll just teach you myself. Come on, let’s go back to the bedroom," Trevor said as he moved to scoop her up again.

Layla pinched his shoulder. "Can’t you be serious for once?"

"Not at all!" Trevor replied with a cheeky grin.

"Hmph!" Layla pouted, her lips forming a pout deep enough to hang a bottle.

"Alright, alright! I’m just teasing you." Trevor gave her a quick kiss on her pouty lips, then playfully nipped her cute nose. "Write down the titles of your books, and I’ll have someone buy new ones for you. I promise they’ll be exactly the same as the ones you got from school."

"It’s already past eight. The bookstores must be closed by now," Layla said, secretly hoping she could still avoid school the next day.

"In Avalon, no store dares to close if Trevor Moore wants to buy something. Now, go and write down the titles," Trevor said, finally letting go of her.

He returned to the bedroom to change into some casual clothes and brought Layla a set as well. Even though he preferred seeing her without clothes, he didn’t want her to catch a cold. After all, if his little wife fell sick, she wouldn’t be able to fulfill her "duties" as a wife, and that would be a great loss to him.

Layla jotted down the titles of the seven ruined books on an A4 sheet, handing it to Trevor. "The ones I’ve marked with stars are the ones I need for tomorrow. The others can wait. But if you don’t get those two by tonight, I’m not going to school tomorrow. And if I fail my exams, you’re not allowed to blame me."

Trevor snapped a clear photo of the list on his phone and sent it off via text. Then he made a call. "Hey, get me these seven books and deliver them to my apartment within two hours."

After hanging up, Trevor turned to see Layla staring at him in disbelief. His lips curved into a smirk. "Don’t worry, baby. I’m not giving you any excuse to skip class, and you definitely won’t be blaming me for any bad grades. These books will be in your hands soon enough. You must be so disappointed, huh?"

"Such a little temptress. I’ve wasted too much time on you today. Now I need to get to work—I still have a ton of emails to go through," Trevor Moore said as he tossed the stained books into the trash and wiped the desk clean with a tissue. He then opened his laptop, clearly shifting into work mode.

Layla Evans, though outwardly calm, was fuming on the inside. He had completely worn her out and then had the audacity to call her a "temptress," as if she had been the one to waste his time. This man was beyond unreasonable.

Even as Trevor focused on his emails, he could sense Layla's restlessness. Without looking up from his screen, he said, "Baby, didn’t you want to study earlier? Why don’t you review your lessons now? You’re not exactly busy."

"I am busy, I just... I have... things to do!" Layla stammered, scrambling for an excuse but failing to come up with anything solid.

Trevor glanced up at her, narrowing his eyes. "More things to do? What, you think your husband’s made of steel or something?"

"I didn’t mean that! I just... well, I have a lot to do right now, no time to study!" Layla's face turned bright red, her embarrassment evident. That flustered, adorable look of hers only made Trevor want to pull her close and indulge in another round of intimacy. However, the stack of important emails waiting for his attention made it clear that he couldn’t let himself get distracted again.

Layla quickly escaped to the living room but was still at a loss for what to do. Eventually, she turned on the TV and started flipping through channels aimlessly. Just as she found a comedy show that made her laugh, Trevor came out of the study and turned the TV off.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Layla pouted, her irritation plain to see.

"If you have time to watch TV, you have time to study," Trevor said. In truth, he hadn’t come out just to lecture her, but the loud TV and her laughter had been distracting him from his work.

"I haven’t even gotten the books I need for class yet!" Layla shot back, seizing the excuse to avoid studying.

"Then go practice your handwriting. Your penmanship looks like a bunch of squiggly worms. It's embarrassing," Trevor said, lifting her off the couch as if she weighed nothing and carrying her back to the study. He sat her down beside him, then downloaded some calligraphy templates from the internet and printed them out.

"Copy this—no slacking off. I’ll check your work later," Trevor said as he handed her the printed templates and some blank A4 sheets.

Layla sighed, feeling utterly defeated. But with Trevor towering over her, she knew better than to defy him, so she reluctantly picked up a pen and began to practice her handwriting.

Trevor Moore finished another email and glanced at Layla Evans, who was still laboring over her writing. "Dummy, who practices calligraphy with a ballpoint pen? Switch to a fountain pen now."

"I don’t have a fountain pen, and I never use them. It’s too much of a hassle to refill the ink," Layla said casually.

Trevor rummaged through the desk drawer and pulled out an elegant box. "Here, this is for you. From now on, you’ll only write with a fountain pen. If I catch you using a ballpoint again, I’ll smack your hand with this steel ruler."

"But there’s no ink!" Layla examined the Parker pen, which seemed brand new.

Trevor handed her a bottle of black ink. "You know how to refill it, right? Or do you need a tutorial?"

"I know how to do it, I’m not an idiot," Layla grumbled as she slowly refilled the pen, dragging the task out. Trevor, growing impatient, said, "Six pages tonight. If you don’t finish, you’re not sleeping."

"What? Six pages? You're not my teacher!" Layla protested. At her slow pace, she wasn’t sure how long that would take.

"I'm not your teacher, but I am your husband. And my orders override any teacher’s. No room for negotiation." With that, Trevor turned back to his work, knowing he had a busy night ahead too.

Layla muttered silent curses at him and his ancestors, going back eight generations. But in the end, she had no choice but to start writing again, her frustration boiling over as she painstakingly scrawled each letter.

After half an hour, her hand was aching, and she had only managed to fill half of a single page. She glanced over at Trevor, who was engrossed in his emails.

"Why are you staring at me? Just now realize how handsome your husband is? Get back to work. You’re not sleeping until it’s done," Trevor said without even looking up.

Layla frowned deeply. She was so done with writing, but instead of protesting, she leaned over and kissed Trevor on the cheek, then pouted sweetly. "You’re so handsome, but aren’t you working too hard? Let me make you a snack. How about some sweet dumplings? Or maybe I could whip up some snow fungus soup or handmade dumplings?"

Trevor raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Sure, I could eat. How about all of the above?" Layla’s face lit up—she’d do anything to avoid more writing. She was about to run to the kitchen when Trevor’s voice stopped her.

"Once you’re done with the snack, come back and finish your writing. No exceptions."

"You’re bullying me!" Layla huffed, standing at the doorway, refusing to go to the kitchen or back to the desk.

"How am I bullying you? You offered to make me a snack—I never forced you," Trevor replied calmly, walking over to her. He’d seen through her little ploy from the start, and while he enjoyed her kiss and the sweet gestures, he still wasn’t going to let her off the hook with her studies.

"So, what’s it going to be? Either way, I’m getting a snack, and those pages are getting written. Unless, of course, you'd prefer that you become my midnight snack," Trevor added with a teasing smirk, leaning in and breathing softly into her ear.

Layla, flustered, rushed to the kitchen. "Fine, I’ll make sweet dumplings, but nothing else! Eating too much at night isn’t healthy anyway." She quickly boiled a bowl of frozen dumplings and served them to Trevor before sulking back to her desk to resume writing.

Trevor savored the sweet dumplings and laughed. "Baby, this snack’s too basic. You always brag about being a great cook, but this? This is definitely below your standard."

Layla ignored him, focusing on her writing, but a sneaky grin crept onto her face. She had just thought of a clever plan.

"Why are you smiling like that? You better not be up to anything," Trevor asked, already suspicious of her sudden change in mood.

"No, no! Nothing at all!" Layla quickly denied it, trying to keep her expression innocent.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Trevor went to the door and returned with a stack of books in hand.

"See? I told you I wouldn’t give you any excuse to slack off. Once you’re done with your writing, you can start reviewing your lessons for tomorrow," Trevor said, placing the new books on the desk.

"Sure, no problem!" Layla grinned, confident in her newfound strategy. As long as she had a plan to deal with the writing, flipping through the books for "review" was a piece of cake.