Rounding a bend, she spotted Marcus, his anxiety evident as he paced near his car.


    He caught sight of her and hastened to her, wrapping her in a reassuring embrace.


    Millie leaned into him, whispering, “Honey, I’m alright.”


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    Despite her assurances, she had been fraught with anxiety untilying eyes on him.


    As he gently caressed Millie’s hair, Marcus’ dark eyes betrayed his guilt.


    “I’m sorry. I should have been there to retrieve you myself.”


    His panic had soared when he couldn’t reach her by phone, certain that something untoward had


    urred.


    “Don’t me yourself. Let’s get in the car and leave this ce,”


    A N G E L A ‘s L I B R A R Y


    Millie consoled him.


    Her choice not to involve him meant he bore no guilt.


    Marcus took Millie’s hand, and together they settled into the car for the journey home. As thendscape


    passed by, Millie narrated her recent experiences, each detail a stark revtion.


    Marcus’ thin lips pressed tightly, his narrow eyes deepening in intensity as Millie described a nt with


    characteristics identical to the Bloody Herb. That Bruce had cultivated such a thing was a testament to


    his malevolent designs.


    Upon their arrival at home, Millie sought thefort of a warm shower. Then Marcus gently guided her


    to bed.


    With eyes closed, Millie nestled against his chest, drawing warmth and reassurance from him.


    Marcus held Millie close, his mind heavy with concern. udia’s health had taken a turn for the worse,


    leaving her bedridden. Those around him grew restless and began weaving their intrigues, even daring


    to target Millie.


    The more he cherished someone, the more relentless his enemies became in their pursuit of ruin.


    Once Millie’s soft snoring filled the room, Marcus rose from the bed with care, making his way to the


    study.


    Positioned by the brightly Lit French window, he dialed a number, his handsome face set in an


    expression of steely resolve.


    At that same moment, Jonah was at his base, seeking sce in a cup of tea. The sight of Marcus’


    iing call sent a tremor through his hand, sshing droplets of tea.


    Composing himself, he savored a mouthful of tea before answering with practiced calm.


    “Marcus, what prompts this call? It’s an unexpected pleasure.”


    “I thought I’d extend an invitation to Uncle Jonah for dinner.”


    Marcus’ slender fingers tapped rhythmically on the table, his smile concealing his true intent.


    Jonah recognized the danger masked by Marcus’ hospitable words, and his brow furrowed in


    response.