"You're still making excuses!" the man bellowed, pointing a menacing finger at Thalassa.

"Ah!" Suddenly, as he pointed at Thalassa, Lysander lifted his cane and struck the man's hand, eliciting a cry of pain. The man quickly turned to Lysander, only to meet his icy glare. Swallowing his anger, the man bowed his head in a show of respect, unable to voice his fury.

Lysander's voice, deep and tinged with restrained anger, cut through the tension. "Whether or not she's behind the design, you weren't harmed. Why the rush to lay hands on her? What are you hiding? Who put you up to this?"

His words went straight to the heart of the matter.

The man who confronted Thalassa was a stranger to her, with no apparent reason to harbor such resentment over a mere design.

People are driven by their own interests. If someone threatens those, they become the enemy.

hadn't purchased anything from Thalassa. Did

Lysander's sharp interrogation, the man stumbled over his words, his gaze darting around guiltily. "Look, Mr. Sinclair, what are

leave as if fearing he'd be unable to escape if he delayed any longer. Thalassa watched Lysander's retreating back with gratitude. He had shielded her

wasn't over; the mess

stepped forward,

Lysander's intervention, the previously hostile crowd held their tongues,

Susan, her gaze icy as

carry a bit of

the anklet in your hand, and hand over all the jewelry you're

incensed. Who was Thalassa to order her

gaze laden with a pressure that no one else could muster. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early

though she was being enveloped by a

all her accessories

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