The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet (Thalassa and Elowen)
Chapter 1524

Thalassa's question was met with Lysander's brooding, icy gaze. He seemed upset.

But Thalassa thought, she was only addressing the reality issue. After all, Lysander and Rosalind had been paired up by their families, and a wedding was inevitable.

By expressing her willingness to attend their wedding, Thalassa was showing she didn't mind him marrying another woman. It was her way of proving she had moved on, that she harbored no undue feelings towards him.

Wouldn't that also signal that she posed almost no threat to Rosalind? Since she had no designs on Lysander, wouldn't harm his marriage to Rosalind, and would even bless their union, there was no need for Lysander to consider extreme measures to reassure Rosalind.

For Lysander, it meant not having to eliminate an obstacle and spared him the trouble of explaining things to Rosalind.

Wasn't it a win-win situation?

Why then, was he angry?

Lysander's deep gaze fixed on Thalassa. Her direct and decisive question felt like a brick, striking hard at the hope that had begun to flicker in his heart.

Anger and pain coexisted in his heart.

He wasn't one for sentimentality and rarely indulged in such emotional questions. After finally overcoming his reservations, he had asked her if the past three years meant as much to her as they did to him. Did she feel for him as deeply as she did for Hertha?

Her failure to answer was one thing, but asking about his wedding to Rosalind? Even expressing a wish to attend?

Did she really want him to marry Rosalind that badly?

NOW PLAY YOUR FAVOURITE GAMES ON

The light of hope in Lysander's eyes extinguished, his low voice was intimidating as he said, "My affairs with Rosalind are none of your concern!"

Thalassa's heart skipped a beat, and she looked down, nodding, "You're right, I shouldn't meddle in your private matters, Mr. Sinclair. Enjoy your time here; I'll take a break over there." Thalassa's long eyelashes veiled the deep disappointment in her eyes as she walked past Lysander, not sparing him a glance, heading straight for the resting area.

Lysander's handsome face tightened, his aura chilling, his gaze fixated on the racetrack but saw nothing. His jaw was taut as his teeth tensely clenched.

Meanwhile, at the racecourse, Alaric and Ethan donned their riding gear and mounted their horses.

Alaric chose a splendid white steed with a lightning-shaped tuft of hair on its forehead a rare and speedy breed.

Alaric's riding was the epitome of grace and valor. His handsome features, combined with his gallant riding, made him look every bit the knight in shining armor as he chased after Hertha. Unlike Hertha's cautious approach, Alaric rode with confidence and flair. He was about to catch up when he called out to her, "Hertha, are you on a Sunday stroll? Pick up the pace!"

Hertha heard someone call her name and instinctively turned back to look, a turn that made her, who was already bad at horseback riding, lose her balance. Her eyes widened in terror as she screamed, "Ahhhh!"

The horse, indifferent to her plight, continued forward. As Hertha swayed and was on the verge of falling, Alaric's heart raced. He tightened the reins, reaching her in the nick of time, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her onto his horse.

The sudden movement dislodged Hertha's wig, sending it flying off her head. Pressed against Alaric's chest, she had no time to enjoy the warmth before noticing her wig was gone. Panicking, she covered her head, "Ah, my hair, my hair is gone!"