chapter238
Observing the subtle shift in Lysander’s expression, Isabella felt a flicker of hope. She believed she had found the perfect leverage to destabilize his perception of Thalassa.
“You see, the version of Thalassa everyone sees now is a far cry from the truth,” Isabella began, her voice dripping with a calculated, feigned regret. “Back in university, she was entirely consumed by a past relationship. When it ended, she lost her focus, eventually leading to her withdrawal from the program. I tried to reason with her—asked her if any single individual was worth sacrificing her career for—but she was caught in a cycle of sentimentality that defined her world.”
She watched Lysander closely, hoping to see a shadow of distaste for what she painted as a lack of professional ambition.
However, Lysander’s response was a sudden, icy stillness. The atmosphere in the office didn't just drop in temperature; it became oppressive, the air thickening with a quiet, dangerous authority. He didn't look like a man who was judging a woman’s past; he looked like a man who was losing patience with a gossip.
Sensing the shift, David stepped in immediately. He gestured toward Isabella’s wheelchair with a clinical coldness. “Your contribution to the conversation is concluded. In this office, we value discretion over conjecture. Those who lose track of that boundary often find themselves facing severe professional consequences.”
Fear replaced Isabella’s fleeting sense of victory. She remained silent as David wheeled her into the hallway.
“The elevator is that way,” David said, his tone flat as he released the chair. “If I were you, I would make this your final visit to the Sinclair Group.”
Isabella nodded hurriedly, her hands trembling as she pressed the call button. The warning was unmistakable.
Meanwhile, across the city, Alaric Falconer let out a sudden sneeze while reviewing design briefs. He rubbed his nose, a phantom numbness still lingering on his tongue—a reminder of a recent conversation where Lysander had reminded him of the price of excessive talk.
At 8 p.m., Thalassa and Hertha were seated in a quiet corner of a boutique lounge. They clinked their glasses in a small, private celebration.
“To your new role as an executive secretary,” Hertha said with a wide smile. “Cheers to a new chapter!”
“Thank you,” Thalassa replied, a genuine sense of accomplishment warming her heart. For years, her lack of a formal degree had closed doors. But today, a company had looked beyond the paper and valued her actual performance.
“I’m curious, though,” Hertha added. “Most firms are so rigid about academic credentials. Why did this one make an exception?”
“They focused on my practical experience,” Thalassa explained. “The recruiter mentioned that even a short tenure at a firm like the Sinclair Group carries significant professional weight. It seems Lysander’s reputation for excellence is a credential in its own right.”