chapter440
A flurry of controlled chaos erupted in the apartment. Hertha flailed her arms, trying to process the sudden intrusion. Thalassa rushed toward the door, intending to intercept them, but stopped abruptly when Alaric’s voice came through the phone once more: “We’ve reached the floor. See you in a moment.”
Thalassa retreated into the room, her mind racing. “I have to hide,” she whispered. “If he sees me here, the entire narrative collapses.”
She moved toward the closet, but Hertha had already reflexively stepped inside. “Hertha, why are you hiding? This is technically your residence according to the form!”
Hertha blinked, realizing her error. In her panic, she had forgotten that she was supposed to be the mother of the four children in this scenario. She stepped out, guiding Thalassa into the closet instead.
“I can handle this,” Hertha whispered, nodding firmly as she closed the closet door.
She turned back to the living room, her eyes darting across the space. A teddy bear on the sofa, a toy set on the table, baby bottles in the dining area... her first instinct was to hide them, but then a realization hit her.
Wait. I’m supposed to be the mother. These items aren't evidence—they’re proof of my story.
She quickly arranged the items to look natural, took a deep breath to settle her racing pulse, and forced a welcoming smile.
A sharp, authoritative knock sounded.
Hertha opened the door, and a wave of cool, commanding energy filled the entryway. Lysander Sinclair stood there, silhouetted against the hallway light in a bespoke black suit. His presence was formidable, his expression one of polite but piercing observation.
Next to him stood Alaric, looking equally professional but slightly more at ease.
“Good morning, Ms. Hertha,” Alaric began. “We’re here on behalf of the gourmet competition investors.”
Lysander’s gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on the children’s items. “I hope our visit isn't an inconvenience,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “We believe in recognizing excellence personally.”