Chapter 1240

“How’s your injury holding up?” Harlan inquired, his gaze shifting to Marcus’s arm, his demeanor

earnest.

“I’m still holding on,” Marcus responded.

The glass found its reprieve upon the table as Marcus unshackled his tie with a casual grace.

“Give me a ring before you can’t hold on, and I’ll whisk you away to Raven Island, rescuing you from

the depths of hell.”

Marcus let out a derisive snort, retorting, “Well, thanks then.”

For the ensuing duration, the room succumbed to quietude, with both occupants displaying a penchant

for reticence.

A N G E L A ‘s L I B R A R Y

Within the hush, Marcus’s phone resonated with a melodious chime.

Millie’s missive unveiled itself-a pastoral vista adorned with stars, a whispered tale of the countryside.

A myriad of stars adorned the canvas of the heavens.

Sporting a slight grin, Marcus typed a few Lines.

“Did my absence leave a void in your thoughts?”

He vaguely recalled the notion that if a girl sent images like cerulean skies or sunsets, it was indicative

of missing someone.

Millie’s response arrived.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just want to share the beauty of the starry countryside sky with you.”

She concluded with a self-assured emoji.

Subsequently, Marcus engaged in conversation with Millie.

Observing Marcus’s cheerful engagement with his screen, Harlan surmised that he must be conversing

with Millie. Left with nothing to occupy his time, Harlan uncorked a bottle of champagne and poured a

glass.

At the threshold of Devil Bar, a flirtatious Maserati graced its cessation, its allure undeniable. And from

the shadows of his brief seclusion emerged Bruce, a figure erstwhile veiled in obscurity.

He disembarked from the vehicle, a coil of rope held firmly within his grasp.

Draped in attire that defied convention, his presence ensnared the collective gaze of many onlookers.

With a resolute tug, the woman ensconced within the automobile faltered, a cascade of ire spilling forth

in her protest.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

A derisive curl graced Bruce’s lips as he retorted, “Did your eyes not witness my exit? The onus can’t

rest on me for your failure to keep pace.”

Subsequently, a young woman emerged from the vehicle with a trace of timidity.