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?”

the edges. The woman in his arms was like a refreshing oasis

of rationality. He was aware that Millie disliked him taking liberties with her, and he

the drug-induced frenzy was taking hold of him; his hand was moving of its own

under his touch, but a creeping sense of discrepancy began to nag at him. Millie’s

heart, prompting him to gather

tongue, choosing to press

betray her identity and

of reason? Shouldn’t he have

a vice-like grip as Marcus thundered, “Who are you? If you persist in your silence,

excruciating pain, unable to fathom how Marcus, under the influence of the drug, possessed such remarkable strength. Her chin throbbed relentlessly,

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