Chapter 370

The man on the other end of the line was as cold as a winter wind, chilling to the bone.

His voice was icy and devoid of warmth as he commanded, “From now on, not even a grain of bread should reach her!”

Fitch felt a chill running down his spine, his heart pounding for Thalassa, but he dared not defy Lysander’s orders. He managed a response, “Yes, Mr. Sinclair”

The line went dead before he could finish his statement.

Fitch looked up at Thalassa, her chest heaving, her eyes filled with anger yet a glimmer of hope.

Feeling sorry, Fitch suggested, “Ms. Everhart, perhaps you should rest in your room.

Upon hearing his words, Thalassa knew she had failed.

She had used hunger as a weapon, yet Lysander still refused to let her go.

Thalassa clenched her fists, her heart aching with pain and anger. Her breathing became heavy as she stood there, processing the harsh reality.

breaths, she turned on her

planned to contact Hertha for help, but her phone had died.

room for a suitable charger,

two chargers in the room, but neither of

was dead. Without a charger, she was cut off from the

she found it impossible

bedroom, her

soon

her room, and no

if she didn’t exist in the

set, nightfall came.

the thought of Lysander’s return, her

the reality. Come seven in the evening,

his car in

already taut nerves wound tighter

room, listening to the faint

creaked open, and a wave of cold, intimidating air swept into

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