Chapter 930
Thalassa sidled up to the bar and dropped Ethan’s name. The bartender, true to his word, handed her a bottle of fine Merlot with a knowing nod.
Clutching the wine, Thalassa was about to make her way to the private booth when her phone erupted in her pocket, its vibrations impossible to ignore.
She fished out the device and stared at the number on the screen-unlisted, yet familiar. It had called before and left messages. Even without a contact name, Thalassa knew who it was.
The digits danced ominously on the display, sending a shiver down her spine. She didn’t want to answer, but the persistent buzzing in her hand was like a devil on her shoulder, reminding her of the terror of not picking up.
Taking a deep breath, Thalassa answered.
“Thalassa, why’d it take you so long to answer?” Bruce’s icy voice oozed through the speaker, as expected.
Teeth gritted, Thalassa shot back, “Bruce, what the hell do you want?”
Her breath came in waves, anger surging within her.
“Susan’s at the bar, and I’ve heard that Lysander’s tucked away in one of the booths. Remember our deal. Miss this chance, and I can’t vouch for the safety of that video.”
The threat of the video again!
Thalassa seethed silently.
“Thalassa, you hear me?” Bruce’s voice, edged with a reminder, cut through her thoughts.
It carried a clear threat, laced with malice.
Last time, Bruce had tried to pawn off a necklace at the mall and ended up on the wrong side of Lysander’s fist. Lucky for him, some good Samaritan had rushed him to the hospital; otherwise, he might have been a goner.
That run-in had shown him Lysander’s formidable presence, an influence unmatched by others.
Bruce was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, knowing if he could just tie himself to Lysander by marrying off his daughter, he’d be untouchable, a made man that no one would dare cross.
Despite his wariness of Lysander, Bruce was hellbent on becoming his in-law.
Thalassa was a lost cause-Lysander’s woman, yes, but she despised and plotted against Bruce, bringing him no benefit.
He needed to push his other daughter, Susan, into Lysander’s arms. Only then could he bask in the reflected glory, have the money-grubbing businessmen fawning over him, and make a pretty penny.
“Got it!” Thalassa managed to reply, swallowing her fury before hanging up.
Her gaze drifted to the approaching figure of Susan, who greeted her with a saccharine smile. “Sweet sister, hand over the wine, will you?”
Thalassa glowered, unmoving.
Susan’s smile turned predatory as she sidled up, snatching the Merlot from Thalassa’s grasp with a scoff. She gave Thalassa a scornful once-over, her lips curling into a smirk before she turned and strutted toward the private booths.
Thalassa stood rooted, her glare burning into Susan’s retreating figure. Despite her reluctance and ragged breathing, there was nothing she could do.
If she didn’t give the wine to Susan, if she didn’t let her get close to Lysander, Bruce would leak the video online. Then Evelyn’s reputation would be shredded, torn apart by public scrutiny.
It would crush Evelyn’s already fragile psyche.
These days, Thalassa had been bending over backward to keep Evelyn’s spirits up, to make her see her own worth. If Bruce’s threat came to fruition, if that video hit the internet…
Thalassa couldn’t bear to think of the consequences.
Susan reached the door to the booth, her hand poised to push it open, but it swung outward from the inside.
Callum stepped out, his eyes locking with Susan’s.