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?”

was fraying at the edges. The woman in his arms was like a refreshing oasis in the scorching desert of

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

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

discrepancy began to nag at him. Millie’s nose was more pronounced, and

him to gather his wits and bellow, “Who

aback but bit her tongue, choosing to press closer

would betray her identity and shatter

some semblance of reason? Shouldn’t he have succumbed

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

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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