Chapter 370

The man on the other end of the line was as cold as a winter wind, chilling to the bone.

His voice was icy and devoid of warmth as he commanded, “From now on, not even a grain of bread should reach her!”

Fitch felt a chill running down his spine, his heart pounding for Thalassa, but he dared not defy Lysander’s orders. He managed a response, “Yes, Mr. Sinclair”

The line went dead before he could finish his statement.

Fitch looked up at Thalassa, her chest heaving, her eyes filled with anger yet a glimmer of hope.

Feeling sorry, Fitch suggested, “Ms. Everhart, perhaps you should rest in your room.

Upon hearing his words, Thalassa knew she had failed.

She had used hunger as a weapon, yet Lysander still refused to let her go.

Thalassa clenched her fists, her heart aching with pain and anger. Her breathing became heavy as she stood there, processing the harsh reality.

breaths, she turned on her heel and stomped

had planned to contact Hertha for help, but her phone had

through the room for a suitable charger, but to

chargers in the room, but

dead. Without a charger, she was cut off from the outside

stronger, and she

in the master bedroom, her heart pounded with

and soon it

no one came looking for

was as if she didn’t exist in

the sun set,

with the thought of Lysander’s return, her

to face the reality. Come seven in the evening, Lysander was back.

the engine of his car in

nerves wound tighter as she remained

listening to the

door creaked open, and a wave of cold, intimidating air

looked up to see Lysander,

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