The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet

"You're still making excuses!" the man bellowed, pointing a menacing finger at Thalassa.Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

"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.

The designs up for auction hadn't even reached the bidding stage yet, and this gentleman hadn't purchased anything from Thalassa. Did he really have a reason to be this enraged with her?

Caught off guard by Lysander's sharp interrogation, the man stumbled over his words, his gaze darting around guiltily. "Look, Mr. Sinclair, what are you implying? I was just... standing up for what's right. Nobody sent me. I just can't stand seeing injustice."

"Since this designer is under Mr. Sinclair's protection, I'll... I'll just leave," the man said, bowing hastily before turning to 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 from harm.

Yet, the ordeal wasn't over; the mess still needed her attention.

She stepped forward, approaching the podium.

Thanks to Lysander's intervention, the previously hostile crowd held their tongues, watching silently as she took the stage. Thalassa moved beside Susan, her gaze icy as it swept over her.

Susan met her eyes and, for reasons she couldn't fathom, felt a shiver run down her spine. Thalassa seemed to carry a bit of Lysander's imposing aura. Was it possible that spending time with Lysander had lent her a touch of his commanding presence?

In a frosty tone, Thalassa demanded, "Give me the anklet in your hand, and hand over all the jewelry you're wearing."

Susan was incensed. Who was Thalassa to order her around like that?

She was about to refuse when she felt an icy stare drilling into her back. It was Lysander's unmistakable gaze laden with a pressure that no one else could muster.

Feeling as though she was being enveloped by a cold mist, Susan had no choice but to comply.

She reluctantly removed all her accessories and handed them over to Thalassa.

Thalassa examined the jewelry

closely, then shot Susan a sharpe look before turning to address the audience. "The design of this jewelry is indeed mine, but the

craftsmanship is not."

"Isn't that a contradiction?" someone from the crowd couldn't help but interject.

Thalassa looked toward the voice and saw it was Rosalind.