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.

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

chimed in, bearing an air of chagrin, “Why the anger? Be mindful not

from his shoulder.

“What did you say?”

an urge to throttle

Harlan registered the anomaly,

merely noted her admirable qualities. It’s a shame for her to remain a mere maid in your

an ironclad declaration was issued

an impossibility. Leave her be,

gaze shifted to Millie,

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