Chapter 311

Aname spoken in such a hazy state of consciousness spoke volumes about its bearer’s significance in his heart.

Rhea had pieced together Marcus’ intentions the moment he gravitated towards the elevator.

His room here was no secret to her; she had visited it in the past.

She arrived at the other end of the corridor via a separate elevator, counting her lucky stars.

Fate smiled upon her again as she encountered a cleaning lady nearby. Recognizing her as Marcus’ friend, the cleaning lady,

unsuspecting of Rhea’s intentions, permitted her entry to retrieve some files for Marcus before proceeding with her own chores.

“Why have you fallen silent?”

Marcus’ patience was fraying at the edges. The woman in his arms was like a refreshing oasis in the scorching desert of his

desire, extinguishing the fervent heat coursing through him.

Yet he restrained himself, clinging to the last vestiges of rationality. He was aware that Millie disliked him taking liberties with her,

and he didn’t want to risk her disdain.

But the drug-induced frenzy was taking hold of him; his hand was moving of its own accord, seeking out the contours of her face.

Her features were soft and velvety under his touch, but a creeping sense of discrepancy began to nag at him. Millie’s nose was

more pronounced, and her chin was less pointed and more rounded.

Asudden unease pierced his heart, prompting him to gather his wits and bellow, “Who are you? Speak up!”

Rhea was taken aback but bit her tongue, choosing to press closer to Marcus’ rigid frame.

Speaking would betray her identity and shatter her carefully constructed illusion.

How could Marcus still possess some semblance of reason? Shouldn’t he have succumbed to his urges and disregarded

everything else?

In the subsequent moment, Rhea found her chin imprisoned in a vice-like grip as Marcus thundered, “Who are you? If you

persist in your silence, | shall end your life.”

Rhea experienced the excruciating pain, unable to fathom how Marcus, under the influence of the drug, possessed such

remarkable strength. Her chin throbbed relentlessly, as if on the verge of being crushed under the force of his grip.

“Marcus... it’s... me,” she barely whispered.

Recognizing the voice, Marcus thrust her away, his words echoing through the room with a thunderous rage.

“Rhea, is it truly you? Leave, now! I have no patience to entertain you,” he roared.

The force of his push sent Rhea crashing onto the floor, her body aching as if shattered into a thousand pieces. But Marcus was

unsympathetic. He ordered her out, his voice a harsh whip in the dark.

“out!”

Despite her aches and pains, Rhea managed to rise, clutching at her resolve. She once again threw herself at Marcus, her voice

barely a whisper, pleading, “Marcus, don’t cast me aside. | know you need me now.”