As Marcus positioned himself before them, his gaze alternated between Millie and Harlan, his eyes ablaze with an intensity that communicated lethal intent. Millie, sensing his fury, braced herself for the storm unleashed.

His inquiry resonated in a cold, unrelenting tone.

“What transpired in my absence?” Marcus’ directness carried a subtle accusation, as if Millie and Harlan had engaged in covert machinations behind his back.

Attempting to offer an explanation, Harlan interjected, his hand alighting on Marcus’ shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie, his words directed at Millie’s benefit.

“Marcus, there’s no need for explanations. Despite her role as your maid, she is entitled to her privacy.”

“And what are you clutching?” Marcus’ focus remained unyielding as he redirected his inquiry.

her arms symbolizing a treasury of intimate moments. Avoiding Marcus’ gaze, she stammered, “Just… nothing much. I was about to

bearing an air of chagrin, “Why the anger? Be mindful not to distress my dear

was immediate and charged, his hand forcefully shedding Harlan’s touch from his shoulder. A gaze harboring a potent mix of fury and suspicion bore into

“What did you say?”

an unprecedented sentiment—Marcus harboring an urge to

the crossfire, Harlan registered the anomaly, his

for her to remain a mere maid in your household. I’ve resolved to pursue

conviction was unwavering; an

impossibility. Leave her be, or be prepared to face

annoyance radiated, an aura of tension enveloping him. His gaze shifted

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