The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet (Thalassa and Elowen)

Chapter 918
After the storm had passed, Thalassa lay sprawled on the couch, completely drained.
Lysander, meanwhile, had slipped back into his clothes with a grace and precision that belied the fervor of moments ago. His
composure was fully intact, as if the intensity they had shared had left no imprint on him whatsoever.
His movements were measured and deliberate as he buttoned his shirt with one hand, exuding the calm dominance of a lion in
its prime. He approached the couch and leaned over, pinching Thalassa’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to
look directly at him.
His gaze mirrored the depth of the night sky, profound and chilling, without a trace of hoarseness from the recent excitement.
“I want you to be filled with my presence-in your body, on your lips, in your heart. As long as you indulge in foolish dreams, you
will know no peace. Understand?” His cold breath washed over her face, icy as a winter gale.
Thalassa’s pupils dilated in shock, compelled to meet his gaze, her eyes swirling with terror, panic, and fear.
“Lysander, what do you want from me?” she gasped, her voice hoarse and faint. Her throat was raw, her words barely more than
a rasp.
What Lysander had done to her was nothing short of a nightmare.
“What do I want? You’ll understand in the end!” Lysander gritted his teeth, his cold words dropping as he let go of her chin. He
grabbed a throw from the couch and draped it over her, perfectly covering her body.
Lysander stood up, his long legs carrying him out of the office with a commanding stride.
Thalassa felt like a leaf in the wind, limp and powerless on the couch. Lysander’s tall, imposing figure exited the office, and as
the door clicked shut behind him, her body slumped, and tears cascaded down her cheeks. She bit her lip, determined not to
make a sound as she wept.
The physical pain, the rawness of her throat, the psychological terror-all of it was overwhelming. Lysander was a demon from the
deepest pits, utterly terrifying, and her whole body trembled at the thought of him.
Several days later.

After work, Thalassa stepped out of Crawley Group headquarters, ready to cross the street to the bus stop.
Someone blocked her view, and as she looked up, she saw a face that filled her with revulsion.
Thalassa tensed up instantly, her guard up, trying to sidestep the figure blocking her path.
Bruce retreated a few steps, only to obstruct her again, his smile dripping with insincerity. “Thalassa, it’s been so long. I’ve
missed you, my daughter. Why do you react to me as if I were a ghost?”
Suppressing her rising fury, Thalassa glared at him with icy detachment. “Bruce, I don’t want to see you. Just vanish from my
sight!”
“Don’t be like that,” he taunted. “Your mother and I, we’ve been very close recently. In fact, we’ve been enjoying each other’s
company immensely.”
At his words, Thalassa shook with rage, unable to contain herself any longer. “Shut up! I’ll call the police on you right now!” She
quivered with anger, fumbling for her phone, but Bruce snatched it away in one swift move.
Thalassa, furious, reached for it, but Bruce held it high out of her reach, his face turning dark. “I have a video, you know. if you
call the cops, it’ll get leaked. Everyone could see how much your mother enjoyed our time together. Imagine the gossip, the
pointing fingers. Think she could handle that?”