Displaying kindness, he even poured her a glass of water.

Melissa wasn't naive. Extended exposure to him had unveiled some of his peculiar habits.

To Marcus, she was nothing more than an exhibition piece.

Having finished the carrot, tears welled up in her eyes, a tinge of embarrassment lingering.

Yet she had to maintain composure, pretending all was well. In a hushed tone, she informed Marcus she had finished. His guilty pleasure satiated, he raised his hand, checking his watch. "I need a nap. Wake me when dinner's ready."

The clock had barely struck four, and he was already preparing for a nap.

Destiny, as unpredictable as it was, spun diverse tales for each soul.

Suppressing her frustration, Melissa refrained from uttering a word.

Silently, she carried the bags to the kitchen, immersing herself in preparing dinner dishes.

Marcus directed his gaze towards the kitchen, a subtle smile playing on his Lips.

Raising his hand, Marcus leisurely unfastened two shirt buttons, removed his wristwatch, and stretched his neck.

Ever since assuming control of the Fowler Group, relaxation had become a rare luxury for Marcus.

He had no need for relaxation anyway. Work served as his companion, and he held little interest in romantic involvement with women.

However, with Melissa joining the secretarial department, Marcus found life to become more intriguing.

While Melissa diligently took care of household chores and prepared meals for him, Marcus found it insufficient.

His desire extended to wanting to cradle her in his arms every night, savoring the comforting fragrance of her presence.

As Marcus contemplated a shower, the doorbell disrupted his plans with an insistent ring.

Curious, he approached the door, finding a delivery person standing with a sizable bag in hand.

A perplexed frown was etched across Marcus' face.

He hadn't placed any orders, yet the address on the package matched his. It turned out the order was from his father, Waylen.