Chapter 1034
Room 2809, Draven International Hotel.
After kicking Susan out, Lysander found himself being a mess of heat and anger. His handsome face flushed with the burn of alcohol, but his deep-set eyes were cold as ice. His grip on the bed sheet was so tight that the veins on his hands stood out. A stark contrast of fire and ice raged through him.
–
It had been over twenty minutes since Thalassa had left more than ten times of the agreed waiting period!
Lysander was sure that Thalassa had ditched him and left the hotel.
A barely concealed fury throbbed at the base of his heart.
The heat in his body threatened to consume him.
He got up and stormed into the bathroom. Tearing off his clothes and turning on the shower, he let the cold water cascade over him in a futile attempt to wash away the heat.
But the tepid water was no match for the burning of his skin, even seeming to warm upon contact.
White steam rose around him.
Lysander clenched his jaw. His striking features taut with restraint, as if they might snap at any moment.
He stood under the cold shower and endured the chill until the heat in his body relented ever so slightly. Then, he shut off the water, dressed, and left the room.
The nerve of Thalassa, leaving him alone in the hotel for that opportunist Susan to make her move!
She was practically asking for trouble!
Clearly, he had been too lenient with her!
As Lysander reached the underground parking on the lower level, a swarm of journalists buzzed towards him and blocked his path.
“Mr. Sinclair” one reporter thrust a microphone towards him, “here at the foot of Crest Summit, the hotel staff colluded with outsiders to kidnap women. It’s rumored you uncovered evidence and brought the perpetrators to justice. You’re quite the young, high-flying CEO with a sense of righteousness. Could you please share how you came to suspect the Crest Summit hotel and gather evidence?”
The reporter eagerly awaited Lysander’s response with a microphone poised.
Lysander’s restrained gaze was a mixture of ice and indignant fire. The reporter shivered
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and lowered the mic; his confidence faltered.
But there’s always a reporter who’s not afraid to push boundaries for an exclusive.
One of them pushed and asked, “Mr. Sinclair, you had no prior dealings with Crest Summit’s hotel, so what brought you there? Was it to expose the scandal or was there a personal grudge with the hotel owner?”
The question crossed his personal boundary.
“Who sent you here!” Lysander’s voice was a cold, steely growl. His hawk-like gaze was sharp enough to slice through the soul of the reporter and instill panic.
The reporter, who had been smug about his question, suddenly found the microphone too heavy to hold, his smile freezing as he stooped to pick it up.
Then, a bold young journalist stepped forward. He blocked Lysander’s way and asked, “We heard that the police received a confession directly from the hotel owner. He admitted to the staff’s crimes and his own negligence. How did you manage to get such a confession?”
Amid the internal blaze and the frustration of being blocked, Lysander’s presence turned frosty. His silent rage lowered the very air pressure around them, making it feel like the oxygen had thinned and forcing everyone to hold their breath.
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