Chapter 1103

Upon returning to her chambers, Millie indulged in a fragrant bath adorned with delicate petals, yet

drowsiness evaded her. With meticulous care, she organized the array of garments in her wardrobe.

The absence of Marcus in the realm of slumber signified his unremitting engagement with unfinished

tasks.

For these two nights within the hospital ward’s confines, Marcus and Millie shared the capacious bed

there.

The embrace of his arms during rest was Millie’s accustomed comfort, while the act of enfolding her

nestled securely within his routine.

The tranquility of the night was momentarily disrupted by a distant clamor, drawing Millie to the

balcony’s vantage point. A glance revealed the silhouette of the physician’s automobile, igniting a

flicker of concern for Marcus’ convalescence.

With a heart woven with hope, Millie extended her aspirations to the celestial bodies, an entreaty for

the swift restoration of Marcus’ A notion arose—a wish to shoulder his affliction in his well-being.

… stead- fueled by the notion that women bore a pain threshold triple that of men’s, as indicated by

empirical knowledge.

Having retreated from the balcony, Millie engaged in a gentle waltz of wakefulness upon the bed until

the gentle arms of sleep tenderly wrapped around her consciousness.

In the sanctum of his study, the doctor conducted an exhaustive evaluation of Marcus’ physique.

A furrow etched itself upon Marcus’ brow, the query escaping his lips.

“What ails me?”

“Mr. Thomas, an inclination toward irritable disorder is evident in your condition.”

“Irritable disorder?” quizzically echoed Marcus.

“The toxin has insinuated itself into your bloodstream, eliciting a medley of aberrant responses within

your system. Consequently, your emotional reins may falter, permitting impulsivity and irritability to

manifest.”

“And is there a remedy to contain this?” Marcus’s tone turned resolute.

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A rueful shake of the doctor’s head ensued.

“The origins of these tribulations trace back to the venom’s machinations. Should restoration be your

aim, detoxification is imperative. Regrettably, an antidote eludes our grasp.”

A bead of perspiration found solace upon the doctor’s brow, an eloquent testament to the gravity of the

situation.

“Furthermore, in light of current projections, the crescendo of impulsivity and irritability shall intensify.

Regretfully, the ones dearest to you might bear the brunt of this storm.”

Marcus’s countenance swathed itself in a cloak of despondence. While physical torment could be

endured, the prospect of unbridled emotional upheaval struck a more ominous chord.

“I apprehend. Your departure is warranted.”

The doctor harbored unspoken words, which he relinquished as he withdrew from the space.

A contemplative interval was all Marcus sought within the study’s confines, a prelude to his noiseless

ascent to the upper chambers.

His footfalls, like whispers of the night, led him to the bedside where Millie lay in repose, her visage

softened by slumber’s embrace.