Meanwhile, Millie, immersed in her tasks, was interrupted by a call from Celeste.

Cold and curt, Celeste’s voice pierced through the receiver, “Meet me at the café downstairs. Don’t dawdle.”

Millie sighed, her anticipation heavy with unease. Celeste’s tone carried the telltale signs of discord. It appeared a confrontation of an unpleasant nature awaited her.

However, obligation compelled her attendance.

With determination, Millie rose from her seat and descended the staircase to the ground floor.

Seated by the window, Celeste tracked Millie’s approach, her brow furrowing in displeasure.

the Thomas Group. The woman Celeste had endeavored to expel was now

made his decision—Millie

addressed her,

fixed on the coffee she stirred, a deliberate avoidance

you the privilege of being a part of the

The

my place based on

gaze, a frigid blade, met Millie’s as she lifted her

of Marcus.

though Millie remained unperturbed, her

advise you

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