chapter350

A heavy silence settled in the corridor. Alaric’s gaze was sharp, waiting for Hertha to complete the sentence that had faltered on her lips.

Hertha’s eyes, bright with a sudden, sharp clarity, searched Alaric’s face. She had been on the verge of clarifying her own status—that she was single, and that the lives she held so dear weren't biologically hers—but the truth remained locked away.

She realized the gravity of the secret she carried. Alaric was Lysander’s closest confidant. If she revealed that the children were Thalassa’s, the news would reach Lysander within hours. Given the current storm of misunderstandings between Lysander and Thalassa, such a revelation would only serve to destabilize the fragile peace Thalassa had fought so hard to build.

I cannot be the one to bridge this gap prematurely, Hertha thought. Her loyalty to Thalassa outweighed her desire for Alaric’s approval. She had promised to be Thalassa’s shield, and a shield did not falter when the stakes were highest.

“Why did you stop?” Alaric prompted, his brow furrowing as he sensed her inner conflict.

Hertha took a steadying breath, her voice finding its resolve. “The children... they are the absolute center of my world. Their peace and safety are irreplaceable.”

She wasn't lying. As Thalassa’s closest friend, she viewed those children as her own family. Their happiness was her mission.

Alaric didn't seem surprised, though a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps a distant irony—touched his lips. “I understand. I’m not in the business of disrupting anyone’s family. You provided me with essential support today; name a fair compensation for your time, and I’ll settle the account now.”

As he opened his banking app, Hertha felt a sharp pang of displacement. She wanted him to see her—not as a financial transaction or a maternal figure with four children, but as the woman who had felt a genuine spark during their earlier, accidental proximity.

“If you truly value the assistance I gave you,” Hertha said, reaching out to gently stall his hand, “then let’s keep it professional. A favor for a favor, and we’re even.”

She glanced at his screen. The thread of their brief, formal history was visible—a series of digital transfers that felt colder than the air-conditioned hallway. He was trying to sever the connection with a final payment, but she wasn't ready to let the story end there.