Chapter 845

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.

Initially, he believed he would seek a wife solely to navigate the complexities of familial obligations, a

pragmatic arrangement to appease the elders. The concept of love was absent from his considerations,

an abstraction he never anticipated embracing.

He was prepared to bestow upon her unending wealth and ascendancy, yet the currency of love eluded

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

forever elusive.

Yet a transformation unfurled, like a flowering bud, within the depths of his infatuation for Millie. Despite

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

gentle warmth. He yearned to consign the entire universe to her.

And then there were those instances when she referred to him as “honey,” a sobriquet that kindled the

deepest embers of his passion. Within those syllables, he discovered a melody that resonated in

harmony with his heart, like the sweetest of notes in the grand symphony of existence.

As evening held them ensconced, a palpable enchantment infused the air. Over time, Marcus

maneuvered the tendrils of Millie’s hair aside, revealing the expanse of her alabaster skin.

With a languid pace, Marcus closed the distance, his lips tracing an itinerary across the canvas of her

flesh.

Tension coiled within Millie, her fists clenched, her visage averted, yet her shimmering eyes beheld him

with a potent magnetism.

“Call me ‘honey’,” Marcus implored, his gaze penetrating and his voice a husky caress. His comely

countenance radiated an irresistible allure.

Under the spell of his enchantment, Millie’s lips parted, the word “Honey” leaving them with a

deliberate, breathy cadence.

Subsequently, Derek materialized with dinner in tow, and Millie dined while nestled upon Marcus’ legs.

Marcus’ penchant for possessiveness was palpable, albeit fortunate that no prying eyes were privy to

their intimate tableau.

Rhea had hastened away, traversing the desolate mountain road in solitude. She wanted to hail a taxi

to descend the hill, yet the lateness of the hour conspired against her-the absence of passing vehicles

and her powerless phone left her stranded in the encompassing darkness.

With every step, venomous invectives directed at Millie punctuated her internal monologue.

“Millie, you wretch! Your comeuppance shall befall you. I will expose your treacherous ways. I ought to

have administered a more potent dose of poison pollen.”

As her strides compounded, so did the pain in her feet and the tumult of her grievances. If only Millie

could suffer a swift demise-this remained her fervent wish.

Resorting to a gesture of surrender, she slipped off her heels, cradling them in her grasp.