chapter104

Lysander walked past Thalassa, his focus fixed straight ahead, radiating a cold, impenetrable aura. Although the October afternoon was unexpectedly warm with golden sunlight streaming through the windows, a sudden chill seemed to settle in the corridor as he passed.

Thalassa turned to David, seeking any hint of what had happened at the fashion show, but David’s expression was tight with caution. He shot her a look that signaled a silent warning—not now—before disappearing into the executive suite behind the President.

But Thalassa knew she couldn't wait. Every hour that the rumors were allowed to circulate was an hour her professional integrity remained under fire. She set aside her cleaning equipment and approached the open door, knocking softly on the frame.

Inside, the atmosphere was as taut as a drawn bowstring. Lysander and his grandfather, Zephyr Sinclair, sat on the sofas, their expressions carved from stone. David was mid-report: “Mr. Sinclair, the breach during the show suggests a mole within the primary circle…”

Thalassa stepped in, her footsteps quiet but steady. She had to fight for her own justice, even in the middle of a corporate storm.

“Mr. Sinclair, I need a moment of your time regarding the recent internal allegations,” she stated, standing tall despite the overwhelming pressure in the room.

Lysander looked up, his eyes sharp as shards of ice. He didn't speak, but the weight of his gaze was enough to make anyone falter. Thalassa didn't back down.

“I was not the source of the rumors currently affecting the department,” she said clearly. “I am being framed, and I have the right to clear my name.”

David tried to catch her eye, blinking rapidly in a desperate silent plea for her to withdraw, but Thalassa remained focused on Lysander.

“David, is something wrong? Do you have an eye irritation?” she asked, momentarily distracted by his frantic signaling.

David froze, offering a strained, diplomatic smile. “Late nights at the office, Thalassa. Just a bit of strain. I’ll manage.” He lowered his head, mentally preparing for the fallout. He admired her courage, but feared her timing.

“Mr. Sinclair,” Thalassa continued, turning back to the President. “The security footage from the executive floor will confirm that I did not eavesdrop on your conversation with Faye. The truth is within that computer.”

Lysander’s handsome face was a mask of cold indifference. “There are matters of far greater strategic importance currently at stake,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. “This is not the time.”