Lysander's chilly eyes narrowed, his hands gripping the wheels of his wheelchair, ready to push himself towards Thalassa.

"Thalassa!" Callum, quick on his feet, rushed forward to support Thalassa. His voice was laced with concern, "Thalassa, are you badly hurt? Should I take you to the hospital right now?"

Thalassa swallowed hard, her throat aching as if slashed by a knife, her heart constricting with pain. Her voice trembled as she replied, "No need, I'll just head home, clean the wound with some antiseptic, and slap on a band-aid."

She steadied herself, silently slipping her hand out of Callum's grasp. With her back to Lysander, she could feel his cold, merciless stare piercing through her.

It sent chills down her spine and a stabbing pain in her heart.

back or catching Lysander's

watched her faltering steps. Knowing she wouldn't want his help, he kept a respectful distance,

Thalassa's departure figures toward

back. His handsome face was tense, his eyes cold, and his cold aura was nearly enough to freeze the air around him. Rosalind, ever

her mind, she realized something then - Lysander hadn't moved on from Thalassa. He was angry when Thalassa was close to Callum, and he was nervous enough to clench his fists when she was in danger. Despite thinking Thalassa was with Callum, his care for her was

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a greed that knew no bounds. Even if they

to trick the kidnapper into believing that killing Thalassa would only make her a tool in a murder,

that Thalassa could

really using his wisdom to protect

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