The Billionaire's Secret Quartet

Chapter 1100

Thalassa had said it plainly enough, but her actions could only cause Susan pain without actually tearing her mouth.

If her intent was genuine, she would’ve grabbed each side with her hands and yanked outward with all her might, easily tearing it.

“Thalassa, you’ve lost it! Let go of me!” Susan’s teeth chattered with pain, yet her defiance. was unyielding.

“I’ve gone mad, sure, but killing you wouldn’t even be a crime!” Thalassa yanked Susan’s head back by her hair with one hand while the other clawed at her face, pulling hard.

Susan’s face, already stinging from a prior slap, throbbed with pain as Thalassa’s fury became evident. If Susan didn’t back down, Thalassa might actually follow through with her threat.

Susan was a master of deception and manipulation, skilled at taking verbal hits if it meant securing her own safety.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she blurted, trying to appease Thalassa. “You’re the bigger person here, don’t stoop to my level. I swear, I won’t breathe a word of this to my dad. If he asks about my injuries, I’ll just say it was a workplace spat, you know, just colleagues clashing.”

Thalassa’s rage cooled slightly upon hearing the plea, and she released Susan. She dusted off her hands with a look of revulsion, as if Susan herself was filth.

Thalassa snorted contemptuously, sparing Susan one last glance before striding out of the restroom.

irrational enough to

She couldn’t

loathed Susan, Thalassa restrained herself

eyes blazing as she watched Thalassa’s retreating figure. Her hands clenched so tightly on the cold marble floor that

head, compounded by her inner

she register the pain in her hands when her

Susan let out a feral scream, “Ah!

reflection in the mirror, observing her disheveled appearance. Her cheeks bore the stark imprint of Thalassa’s hand, swollen like a butchered

fueled her rage even further, her breaths coming in sharp gasps.

her bad luck- not only stooping to some demeaning commercial for a quick buck but also running into

What a curse!

the advertising agency, heading for the curb to hail a cab when her phone

It was Lysander.

skipped a beat; even a

she answered,