As evening approached, Sylvia, with a gentle tap of the room key card, entered.

She brought a change of clothes for Marcus and several outfits for women, along with some health tonics.

Melissa appeared delicate, and Sylvia worried about her ability to withstand Marcus' intensity.

Upon entering the suite, Sylvia noticed its eerie silence.

The dining area was a mess.

A light gray shirt lay crumpled on the carpet, its fine fabric now resembling a rag. Sylvia recognized it as a high-end brand, now reduced to a wrinkled state.

And the tablecloth didn't look good either.

Sylvia gazed at the bedroom door, which was shut, yet there was a faintly sweet scent in the air.

"It's so intense," she remarked, setting down her bags to tidy up the room.

She then called someone to collect the food, and arranged a late-night snack for Marcus, scheduled for 9 p.m. delivery.

Just as Sylvia made all the arrangements and was about to leave, the bedroom door swung open.

Marcus emerged, looking invigorated. Dressed in black casual trousers and a white shirt, he seemed remarkably unaffected by the indulgent day he had.

Unfazed by Sylvia's presence, he examined the bags she brought.

"These will be perfect for Melissa," he noted.

With a sigh, Sylvia advised, "Mr. Fowler, maybe ease up on the indulgences a bit."

Marcus gave her a brief, embarrassed look but soon responded nonchalantly, “Arrange for Melissa to leave her jobs. After a few days in Warsew, I'll bring her back to Duefron. And get me a private plane the day after tomorrow; I'm not taking the company bus."

Sylvia wasn't surprised by his plans.

“Where will you be going in Warsew, Mr. Fowler? Should I hire you a tour guide?" she asked, intrigued.

Marcus hesitated, his fingers pausing momentarily. "No. We're just staying at the hotel," he replied calmly.

Sylvia was momentarily at a loss for words. His audacity was astounding.