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Chapter 1196
Chapter 1196
Chapter 1196
Chapter 1196
Thalassa listened silently, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular as she absorbed the world around her.
She knew her friend Hertha was defending her honor, and she couldn’t help but agree with her fiery
words.
Debby wouldn’t have done well getting out of jail early if she hadn’t figured it out.
Hertha glanced at Debby’s mother, who was still on the ground, wailing and crying, completely ignoring
the advice being offered to her.
Hertha’s anger boiled over as she snapped, “Do you think hobbling on one leg to buy your daughter’s
freedom is helping her? You’re only making things worse. She’ll become more demanding, more
reckless. Let me be clear, we are not going to plead for your daughter, and we certainly won’t forgive
her. Thalassa nearly lost her life. Who showed her any sympathy or pity? You want to stay on your
knees? Fine, then stay there.”
With those last biting words, Hertha grabbed Thalassa’s hand and steered her around the front of the
car, opening the passenger door to let her in.
Just then, a sleek black Rolls-Royce glided smoothly towards them, its engine purring as it pulled up
behind Hertha’s car. The door swung open, and out stepped Lysander, a vision of elegance and
authority.
Dressed in a black suit with a short-sleeved shirt and a neatly tied tie, his mere presence seemed to
thicken the air, the atmospheric pressure dropping and instilling a sense of foreboding.
Thalassa’s eyes locked onto Lysander as he emerged. His face was a cold mask of aristocratic beauty,
his stride purposeful as he approached. The air seemed to ripple with his presence, slowing breaths
and chilling hearts.
Hertha’s grip on Thalassa’s hand loosened instinctively, fearful of what Lysander might do if he saw
them too close.
Debby’s mother, too, noticed Lysander and her pleading expression immediately turned to one of sheer
terror. Her body began to tremble involuntarily.
Moments before, she had been able to articulate her pleas to Thalassa to spare Debby, but now, in
Lysander’s presence, she was struck dumb, gripped by fear and dread.
Because deep down, she knew that Hertha was right.
Why should the victim forgive someone who had tried to kill her?
Lysander reached out to Thalassa, his intense gaze locked on hers. Without a word, the air around
them seemed to grow heavy with his unspoken command.
Thalassa, feeling a sudden wave of panic, hesitantly reached out her hand to meet his. His firm grip
enveloped her delicate hand, pulling her close to his side. His other arm wrapped around her waist,
drawing her into the protective circle of his strong body, providing her with a fortress of security.
His icy gaze swept over to Carina, who had been shivering on the ground, and it was as if his stare
alone could freeze her in place, halting even her trembles, draining the color from her face.
The chauffeur stepped out of the Rolls-Royce and stood by Lysander, waiting for instructions. “Mr.
Sinclair.”
“Get rid of the nuisance,” Lysander commanded in a voice that was as cold as the wind.
“Yes, sir.” The chauffeur nodded, pulling Carina to her feet with ease, his muscular frame making light
work of the task.
Carina, who had been sobbing and begging just moments ago, was now silent, too frightened to protest
as the chauffeur dragged her away.
Hertha let out a relieved sigh. “Lysander, thank goodness you’re here. I trust Thalassa in your hands.
Only you can keep her safe.” Hertha’s words were heartfelt, but as soon as they left her mouth,
Lysander’s sharp gaze turned on her.
The silent intimidation made Hertha’s heart skip a beat, her earlier light-hearted banter instantly
vanishing as she tensed up, suddenly very aware of his imposing presence.
Did she say something wrong? Hertha wondered, as Lysander’s formidable eyes bore into her.
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