Chapter 538

In the present, he seemed akin to a solitary and aloof monarch, radiating an impenetrable aura. It was as if anyone venturing

closer risked annihilation.

The succeeding day dawned, prompting Millie's awakening. Marcus, with an air of solemnity, directed her attention to a sheet of

paper adorning the desk.

“| have enumerated three directives for your compliance. Abide by these henceforth.”

What?

Puzzlement gripped her. Retrieving the paper, she perused its contents.

1. Cultivate personal transformation and exude kindness. 2. Avoid impure utterances. 3. Refrain from subjecting him to pinching.

“Transform myself into what? Am | not typically affable? Is this some jest?” Millie’s lips curled skeptically.

It appeared he could anticipate her response. With unwavering resolve, Marcus intoned, “If you are indeed kind, persist in your

course. If not, then amend yourself.”

Past transgressions bore myriad unfavorable tales about Millie, yet Marcus chose to consign these to oblivion. The future held

promise, contingent on her personal metamorphosis.

Millie contested further, “Impure utterances? I’ve not uttered a solitary inappropriate word.”

Ashake of her head ensued. What foul language had she spouted? Her utterance of “shit” stemmed from a surge of ire.

Marcus’ trifecta of stipulations seemed bereft of relevance. She believed herself inculpable on all fronts.

“At the very least, exercise circumspection in your speech henceforth.”

On the cusp of her impending query about the final edict, Millie raised her gaze, only to find Marcus had departed.

How could his absence transpire so abruptly? Bridging the distance to the balcony, her sight was met by Marcus ensconced

within a vehicle, window slightly ajar. He lingered momentarily before departing.

Millie sensed his remoteness not only on the previous night's balcony but also within the confines of the car, as though an

insurmountable chasm stretched between them.

Within the confines of the plastic surgery hospital, Rhea handed over the money to Brenna, casting an assessing gaze at her

from head to toe. She acknowledged that Brenna was good-looking.

Mylo was a real playboy. His interest in Brenna had been piqued solely due to Brenna’s calculated pretense of tripping before

him.

“Your performance yesterday was commendable.”

Accepting the payment with a pleased expression, Brenna responded, “Thank you.”

Yet apprehensions nagged at her. “Could repercussions follow? Marcus’ ominous declaration reverberated in her mind—any hint

of falsehood would usher in disaster, he had warned.”

“He did say that?” Rhea pondered, her heart smarting with a twinge of discomfort.