Chapter 1524Thalassa’s question was met with Lysander’s brooding, icy gaze. He seemed upset.
But Thalassa thought, she was only addressing the reality issue. After all, Lysander and Rosalind
had been paired up by their families, and a wedding was inevitable.
By expressing her willingness to attend their wedding, Thalassa was showing she didn’t mind him
marrying another woman. It was her way of proving she had moved on, that she harbored no undue
feelings towards him.
Wouldn’t that also signal that she posed almost no threat to Rosalind? Since she had no designs on
Lysander, wouldn’t harm his marriage to Rosalind, and would even bless their union, there was no
need for Lysander to consider extreme measures to reassure Rosalind.
For Lysander, it meant not having to eliminate an obstacle and spared him the trouble of explaining
things to Rosalind.
Wasn’t it a win-win situation?
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Why then, was he angry?
Lysander’s deep gaze fixed on Thalassa. Her direct and decisive question felt like a brick, striking
hard at the hope that had begun to flicker in his heart.
Anger and pain coexisted in his heart.
He wasn’t one for sentimentality and rarely indulged in such emotional questions. After finally
overcoming his reservations, he had asked her if the past three years meant as much to her as they
did to him. Did she feel for him as deeply as she did for Hertha?Her failure to answer was one thing, but asking about his wedding to Rosalind? Even expressing a
wish to attend?
Did she really want him to marry Rosalind that badly?
The light of hope in Lysander’s eyes extinguished, his low voice was intimidating as he said, “My
affairs with Rosalind are none of your concern!”
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Thalassa’s heart skipped a beat, and she looked down, nodding, “You’re right, I shouldn’t meddle in
your private matters, Mr. Sinclair. Enjoy your time here; I’ll take a break over there.”
Thalassa’s long eyelashes veiled the deep disappointment in her eyes as she walked past
Lysander, not sparing him a glance, heading straight for the resting area.
Lysander’s handsome face tightened, his aura chilling, his gaze fixated on the racetrack but saw
nothing. His jaw was taut as his teeth tensely clenched.
Meanwhile, at the racecourse, Alaric and Ethan donned their riding gear and mounted their horses.
Alaric chose a splendid white steed with a lightning-shaped tuft of hair on its forehead—a rare and
speedy breed.
Alaric’s riding was the epitome of grace and valor. His handsome features, combined with his
gallant riding, made him look every bit the knight in shining armor as he chased after Hertha.
Unlike Hertha’s cautious approach, Alaric rode with confidence and flair. He was about to catch up
when he called out to her, “Hertha, are you on a Sunday stroll? Pick up the pace!”
Hertha heard someone call her name and instinctively turned back to look, a turn that made her,
who was already bad at horseback riding, lose her balance. Her eyes widened in terror as she
screamed, “Ahhhh!”The horse, indifferent to her plight, continued forward. As Hertha swayed and was on the verge of
falling, Alaric’s heart raced. He tightened the reins, reaching her in the nick of time, wrapping an arm
around her waist and pulling her onto his horse.
The sudden movement dislodged Hertha’s wig, sending it flying off her head. Pressed against
Alaric’s chest, she had no time to enjoy the warmth before noticing her wig was gone. Panicking,
she covered her head, “Ah, my hair, my hair is gone!”
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