A name spoken in such a hazy state of consciousness spoke volumes about its bearer’s significance in his heart.

Rhea had pieced together Marcus’ intentions the moment he gravitated towards the elevator.

His room here was no secret to her; she had visited it in the past.

She arrived at the other end of the corridor via a separate elevator, counting her lucky stars.

Fate smiled upon her again as she encountered a cleaning lady nearby. Recognizing her as Marcus’ friend, the cleaning lady, unsuspecting of Rhea’s intentions, permitted her entry to retrieve some files for Marcus before proceeding with her own chores.

“Why have you fallen silent?”

a refreshing oasis in the

aware that Millie disliked him taking liberties with her, and he didn’t want to risk her

him; his hand was moving of its own accord, seeking out

sense of discrepancy began to nag at him. Millie’s nose was more pronounced, and her chin was less pointed

unease pierced his heart, prompting him to gather his wits and bellow, “Who are you? Speak

taken aback but bit her tongue, choosing to press closer to Marcus’ rigid

identity and shatter her carefully

Shouldn’t he have succumbed to his urges and disregarded

chin imprisoned in a vice-like grip as Marcus thundered, “Who are you? If you

to fathom how Marcus, under the influence of the drug, possessed such remarkable strength. Her chin throbbed relentlessly, as if on the verge of being crushed under the force of his

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