Chapter 1051
Lysander was even more ruthless than he had Imagined.
The bodyguard’s words echoed in his ears.
Lysander commanded to break Callum’s legs, and it was a tactic to coerce Thalassa into coming with him willingly. Later, Lysander promised Thalassa he would cease the
violence, but the bodyguard took it upon himself to carry out the brutal act.
In the end, it was Lysander’s order, wasn’t it? The man was known for his cold efficiency and his refusal to show mercy in any endeavor.
Shortly, an ambulance arrived at Moon Retreat and took Callum away.
Lysander’s plane touched down at Weston Country Airport.
He led them straight to a large aircraft parked on the tarmac, where they were greeted by a hostess standing at the plane’s entrance.
She wasn’t dressed in the typical flight attendant’s attire, but rather in a sharp business suit that hinted at extensive professionality.
The hostess politely ushered Thalassa and the children into the cabin, and it was only then that Thalassa realized they were the sole passengers.
“I want a window seat!” Elowen declared, scrambling onto a seat by the window with youthful eagerness.
“I want to sit by the window too.” Dorian chimed in, claiming another spot. Once settled, he peered out with the same fascination as the day before. The skies had offered them a whole new spectacle they were keen to behold again.
Atticus and Sophia, though silent, naturally gravitated toward the window seats as well.
All four youngsters had staked their claims on the coveted spots.
Seeing this, Thalassa quickly intervened, “Atticus, Sophia, please come sit with Dorian and Elowen. You can’t just hog the seats like that; there might be other passengers.”
The hostess, standing by with a smile, respectfully interjected, “Ms. Everhart, there’s no need to worry. Please, feel free to sit wherever you like. This isn’t a commercial flight; it’s Mr. Sinclair’s private jet.”
Thalassa’s eyes widened in disbelief. A private jet? She had thought only airlines owned planes and scheduled flights for travelers. The idea that Lysander owned a jet as grand as a commercial airliner shattered her conception of wealth.
“Wow, so my dad owns a private jet this big? It’s even cooler than Callum’s plane!” Dorian
exclaimed with the enthusiasm of a true aviation aficionado.
The hostess corrected him, “Mr. Sinclair doesn’t own just one private jet; he has several.”
“Several? Like, toys?” Dorian’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ of astonishment.
“If you want to play, one day I’ll fly one out to Royal Estates just for you,” Lysander’s deep voice resonated as he entered the cabin.
Thalassa was speechless. Toy models were one thing, but actual planes for play?
“Oh yes! I get to play with a real plane! Dad, you’re the coolest!” Dorian jumped up from his seat in excitement, only to bump his forehead against the seat back with a resonant ‘thud.’
Thalassa winced in sympathy, “Did that hurt, honey?”
Dorian rubbed his forehead, stuck out his tongue playfully, and insisted, “It’s okay, it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt a bit.”
Thalassa couldn’t help but laugh at his eagerness, which made pain secondary to his joy. As she looked up, she met Lysander’s profound and mysterious eyes, captivating and as deep as a void.
A shiver ran through her.
“Elowen, I’ll sit next to you.” Thalassa quickly averted her eyes, moving to the seat beside her daughter. She tried to avoid further eye contact with Lysander and alleviate her embarrassment.
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