The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet (Thalassa and Elowen)
Chapter 1652

The moment Thalassa spotted Lysander entering the room, her heart skipped a beat, seizing up as if caught in a freeze frame.

Turning around, she found herself locked into Lysander's icy, profound gaze. His eyes were like two dark voids, capable of sucking in anyone's soul with their chilling depth.

A sudden stiffness took over Thalassa's body when she realized her hand, holding a teacup, was inches away from brushing against Callum's, who was also holding his cup. The proximity of their hands was unspokenly intimate.

She quickly withdrew her hand, glancing back at Lysander only to find his attention had already shifted away. His deep voice broke the silence, directed at Alaric, "Cut the random calls. If this happens again, you know the consequences."

With that, he wheeled himself away, leaving a tense atmosphere in his wake.

"Lysander, I swear I wasn't lying. Thalassa really did go MIA for a while. How was I supposed to know she was just asleep at home?" Alaric's voice carried a mix of frustration and innocence, but it was met with nothing but the sound of Lysander's retreating wheels.

David, who had followed Lysander in, caught the tail end of the exchange. Feeling slightly awkward, he shot Alaric and Thalassa a sympathetic look before hurrying out after Lysander.

From the moment Lysander had appeared, Hertha found herself on edge, her grip on Alaric's arm tightening unconsciously. Only when Lysander had left did she realize how closely she was holding onto him. Alaric winced slightly at the grip, turning to face Hertha. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, it felt as though sparks flew between them.

Hertha was mesmerized by Alaric's captivating eyes, shining with an almost fox-like allure. Her heart raced uncontrollably, thumping loudly as if on a rollercoaster of emotions.

Alaric, observing her flustered state, couldn't help but notice how her cheeks had flushed a rosy red, reminiscent of a ripe apple.

His gaze inadvertently drifted to her hand on his arm, a gesture usually reserved for couples. Her tight grasp sparked a sliver of hope in Alaric's heart.

Unintentional actions were often the truest reflections of one's feelings, Alaric mused. Hertha's grip on his arm, was it a sign she harbored feelings for him?

Just as Alaric was about to revel in the thought, Hertha, catching her breath, realized the intimacy of their posture. She quickly released her grip and scooted away, her gaze flitting away as she stammered, "Lysander's presence is just so overpowering. I couldn't help but feel intimidated, you know. Even in a wheelchair, he commands such respect..."

Hertha glanced sideways at Alaric, gauging his reaction.

As the warmth and pressure of her grip left his arm, Alaric felt a void form in his heart. Swallowing hard, he averted his gaze, muttering, "There's nothing to be afraid of."

It was a clumsy attempt to ease the awkwardness between them.

"You're just as scared, don't pretend," Hertha retorted with a roll of her eyes.

Alaric wondered, was his apprehension towards Lysander that obvious? He felt a twinge of embarrassment and subconsciously touched his nose.

Watching Lysander's retreating figure, Thalassa's gaze turned distant. The remnants of tears in her eyes began to sting again.

Her fists clenched involuntarily, her breathing grew heavy. Lysander's brief appearance had ignited a spark of hope in her, only for it to be extinguished as swiftly as he left. Not a word was exchanged between them, and yet, his departure left her feeling as though she had been cast into an abyss, gasping for air amidst the pain.