Chapter 1399

David still commanded respect within his circle.

On the bed lay Lysander quietly, the man Thalassa hadn’t seen for days.

Five days apart felt like an eternity to her.

As she approached, Lysander’s figure became clearer.

He lay on the hospital bed, dressed in the gown typical of the hospital, a light blanket draped over him.

Near the bed, a heart monitor beeped steadily, its lines dancing with life, a testament that he was still with them.

His head was wrapped in white bandages, stained with the brown of antiseptic, indicating the extent of his head injury.

The once icy and imposing man now lay still, his sharp features softened, so quiet it squeezed everyone's heart.

His thick eyebrows, always bristling with intensity, were now relaxed. His eyes closed, the long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, hiding his usually piercing gaze.

His handsome nose still stood proud, but without its usual edge, and his lips were pale—not commanding and fiery as they used to be.

The once domineering and aloof man now seemed so fragile, as if he could slip away at any moment.

Seeing Lysander in such a state, a pang of sorrow struck Thalassa, her eyes burning with tears as her breath trembled, “Lysander, I’m so sorry.”

Her voice shook, even as she tried to control her emotions, the sobs spilled out.

Other than an apology, nothing else seemed adequate to express her remorse.

It was to save her that Lysander had ended up like this.

In a way, Zephyr was right—it was her presence that had brought him to this state.

If Lysander hadn’t met her, he would be thriving, still dominating the business world as a tycoon beyond reach.

He wouldn’t know about the existence of his four children. He would have followed Zephyr’s plans, married Charlotte Ravensong and lived a happy family life. He would grow old surrounded by his children and grandchildren peacefully.

Rather than lying here, uncertain if he would even see old age.