Chapter 980

Thalassa sat vigilantly beside Sophia’s bed, her hand softly stroking the little girl’s back in a comforting rhythm. Her voice, tender and soothing, must have slipped into Sophia’s dreams. Sophia’s tiny, startled frame ceased its trembling, and the furrowed brow of innocence smoothed out as she fell deeper into slumber. Her breathing became even and sweet.

After ensuring Sophia was sound asleep, Thalassa lingered for a moment before leaving the room. She felt disheveled and longed for hot shower, but her clothes were all in the master bedroom on the second floor.”

The living room was deserted; Lysander was likely in the master bedroom, presumably asleep.

Thalassa hesitated, reluctant to confront Lysander. However, her blouse was missing buttons, temporarily fastened with a paperclip. Her skirt had a torn patch, and a sticky discomfort clung to her skin.

She needed a bathe.

Finally, summoning her courage, Thalassa tiptoed to the master bedroom. The door was ajar. With the faint light from the hallway spilling in, she could make out the emptiness of the room – no Lysander in sight, the bed unoccupied.

She peeked into the bathroom. The door was open, the interior silent.

Emboldened by his absence, Thalassa flicked on the light and headed in to find fresh clothes before retreating to the sanctuary of the bathroom.

As she undressed, the mirror revealed a sizable love bite on her neck, a vivid testament to Lysander’s passion in the Sinclair Group office earlier. His intensity had left her skin tingling with a mix of pain and shivers. She hadn’t realized the mark would be so pronounced.

Touching the bruise, Thalassa winced at the lingering soreness. The night had been a tumultuous roller coaster of emotions, surviving kidnappers only to face Lysander’s unpredictable wrath.

She thought about the office incident, her heart constricting as she gripped the edge of the sink, her breathing heavy.

To Thalassa, what was the difference between Lysander and those abductors? The only distinction was that the kidnappers’ ropes were visible, while Lysander’s bonds were invisible chains.

After her shower, Thalassa didn’t stay in the master bedroom. Instead, she sought refuge in Elowen’s room, seeking the comfort of her daughter’s presence. She wasn’t foolish enough to stay with Lysander, whose moods swung dangerously. At Royal Estates, she was constantly on edge, let alone in the same room with him.

Next to Elowen’s chubby little body, breathing in her milky scent, Thalassa’s guard finally dropped.

Weariness overcame her, and she fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, the door creaked open, revealing Lysander’s tall silhouette pausing at the threshold. His gaze lingered on Thalassa, who curled protectively around Elowen. His expression, as deep as the night, remained unreadable. After a moment’s pause, he silently withdrew and closed the door behind him.

In the morning, Elowen woke up at her usual time of 8 a.m. As she sat up, idly scratching her head, her gaze casually drifted to the side. Initially dismissing it, she looked away, only to be struck by a sudden realization that made her glance back. There, beside her in bed, lay a person.