Marcus, his expression condescending, made no effort to repeat himself as he looked down at her.

Two seconds later, Millie motioned to a nearby servant.

“Come here and fetch him a glass of milk.”

“Did I ask for her involvement?” Marcus restrained his temper, his patience wearing thin. They had just left the bar, yet Millie seemed determined to provoke him once more.

It seemed tonight’s lesson wasn’t enough for her.

Millie instinctively lowered her head, stealing a glance at her legs as the memories of soreness and numbness flooded back.

head, attempting to shake off the remnants of

Millie set down

kitchen, retrieving an empty glass. Millie reached for a large bottle of milk resting on the table,

the moment he carried it into his study, a

within the confines of the Browns’ homestead, Mia was absorbed in the morming paper when

way! Millie’s face wasn’t marred at all. That was an artificial scar.

a beverage accident

Mia’s hands and scanned the article, rage tremors resonating

has been feigning

resulting in Millie’s true visage plastered across the news, accompanied by a

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