“Here we are, miss.”


    Millie paid the fare and stepped out of the car.


    Marcus, on the verge of leaving, noticed Millie from a distance. d in an expensive suit, he stood


    upright, waiting for her.


    Lost in thought about the recent incident, Millie didn’t look ahead.


    Marcus observed her and inquired, “Have you gone out?”


    “Yes, honey,” Millie blurted out. But when she looked up and saw two senior executives standing with


    him, she quickly corrected herself.


    “Mr. Thomas.”


    Marcus inclined his head and signaled the others to enter the car first.


    Noticing Marcus’ silent stare, Millie offered, “I just went to the Fairclough family’s house to discuss the


    design.”


    Then it dawned on her that Marcus might not know about it yet.


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    “I forgot to tell you that I’ve been given the opportunity to design jewelry for Miss Fairclough’s wedding.”


    Marcus nodded. The Fairclough family had already informed him that Millie would be designing the


    wedding jewelry.


    “What happened on the way? You don’t look well,” Marcus asked, patience and concern evident in his


    voice. He studied Millie, who appeared distracted and empty-handed.


    Frowning, Millie looked around, about to tell him what had transpired.


    Derek approached and announced, “Mr. Thomas, it’s time to go.”


    “Nothing. It’s just that I feel Millie shook her head and responded, a little ufortable under the sun.”


    She was still preupied with the incident and unsure how to exin it.


    “If you feel ufortable, go home and have a rest.”


    Marcus had indeed arranged a rendezvous with an acquaintance, Leaving him with no room for further


    dy. Following a concise exchange, he departed.


    Meanwhile, Millie retraced her steps to her office, systematically expelling all lingering thoughts from


    her mentalndscape. The pursuit of perfection in her work had now surged to the forefront of her


    priorities.


    Within the confines of the No. 1 subterranean bar, the portal to the private chamber reserved by Bruce


    swung open, ushering in the entry of Ryan Morgan, bearing the belongings Millie had inadvertently


    dropped.


    Bruce lowered his teacup, affixing an unwavering gaze upon the neer, his countenance


    unflinching.


    Taking a seat, Ryan unveiled the contents of Millie’s design draft, his gaze descending deep into its


    artistic depths.


    A sidelong shake of Bruce’s head punctuated his quiet sips of tea.