The Billionaire's Secret Quartet

Alaric swallowed his anger just as it was about to burst out. Forget it, arguing with Hertha was pointless. Winning the argument meant she might leave, and he'd be left all alone. Losing meant he could at least enjoy the meals she cooked.

"Why would I drive you away? I'm exhausted. I'm going to lie down for a bit. Call me when dinner's ready," Alaric said, his tone now casual as he turned and walked out of the kitchen. Hertha rolled her eyes at his retreating back and got back to her tasks.

Sitting on the couch, Alaric's stomach was growling louder than a bear. Including today, it had been two whole days since he last ate. A weaker person would have caved by now. The fact that he was still holding on was nothing short of a miracle.

Leaning back on the couch, the sounds of pots and pans clinking in the kitchen reached his ears. Alaric found himself glancing towards the kitchen out of habit. There was Hertha, bustling about, flipping something in a skillet one moment and washing vegetables in the sink the next.

A smile tugged at Alaric's lips. Who knew she was capable of multitasking like that?

As he watched, he pulled a blanket over himself, feeling a chill. Whether it was from hunger or the remnants of his illness, he couldn't tell.

with the fragrance of soap. Alaric stiffened for a

a reminder of three years past. Whenever he felt lost, in pain, or terribly alone in the dead of night, that

have used this blanket, leaving her scent behind. Alaric greedily inhaled, basking in

and Hertha emerged with a dish in hand, calling

reality, Alaric's fox-like eyes lazily responded, "Oh,

to

Alaric clutching the blanket to his face. Curiosity piqued,

was absent-minded, his focus still on the blanket, longing

more attached to the blanket than to her presence, longing for past moments