Millie’s compliance was unswerving; she submitted herself to his enfoldment, bearing witness to his occasional excesses of ardor.

Subsequently, Marcus produced his cellular device, dialing Derek’s number, and his request was delineated with precision. “Convey unto us two portions of Light repast.”

Foreseeing that Millie’s appetite might have waned in the wake of her recent indisposition, Marcus chose a nourishing selection.

“Is the discomfort still with you?” In the aftermath of the call, Marcus’ touch gravitated towards her abdomen, his gesture invested with a tenderness that belied his typically steely demeanor.

“No, the pain has subsided.” Millie’s assurance carried solace to Marcus’ heart. The current moment radiated warmth, breathing new vitality into his existence.

In those harrowing days on the island, he bore witness to a ceaseless parade of death, each night a procession of souls departing. The ordeal had left him akin to a living specter. Upon emerging from that crucible, he seized the reins of the Thomas Group, an unyielding vessel helmed by his cold resolve. The organization evolved under his unwavering leadership into the entity it stands as today.

a pragmatic arrangement to appease the elders. The concept of love was

eluded his grasp, as it always would. His companionship would forever remain distant, a wistful phantom forever

perennial aloofness, her presence rendered him malleable, his austere exterior giving way to a

embers of his passion. Within those syllables, he discovered a melody

Marcus maneuvered the tendrils of Millie’s hair aside, revealing the expanse of her

distance, his lips tracing an itinerary across the canvas of her

visage averted, yet her shimmering eyes beheld him with

implored, his gaze penetrating and his voice

enchantment, Millie’s lips parted, the word “Honey” leaving them with a deliberate, breathy

in tow, and Millie dined while nestled upon

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