Billionaires

Chapter 1446 

Dr. Funke glanced at the hand she had placed against the door, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Five minutes? What can you possibly fix in five minutes?” 

“Thalassa gave her word she’d introduce you to an apprentice today, and she’s not one to break a promise. Dr. Funke, I get that you’ve only just met Thalassa and you aren’t quite familiar with her yet, but I can vouch for her character. There’s no need to doubt her integrity. How about a little trust?” Lydia, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, finally spoke up. 

Dr. Funke’s demeanor towards Thalassa was a tad too stern, bordering on harsh. Even though he was a renowned physician, using the threat of withholding medical care to pressure someone else was beyond unreasonable. 

This approach was quickly souring Lydia’s impression of the doctor. In her mind, doctors were selfless heroes, dedicated to healing and saving lives. The idea of a doctor demanding such preposterous conditions before agreeing to provide medical care, or using threats against a patient’s family, was unheard of to her. 

Dr. Funke’s gaze shifted to Lydia, his expression unyielding, his eyes scrutinizing her. “And who might you be? Since when do you get a say here?” 

“I…” Lydia started, her expression faltering for a moment. She stepped forward, ready to have it out with Dr. Funke. Having served in the military, her sense of justice was unwavering, and when she got serious, it was as if she was gearing up for a fight. 

Sensing the situation escalating, Thalassa quickly interjected, standing between Lydia and the doctor. Her eyes were imploring Lydia to keep her cool. 

They needed Dr. Funke to treat Lysander now. Offending him was not an option. 

Taking the cue from Thalassa’s look, Lydia took a deep breath, reined in her temper, and shifted her gaze away, no longer wanting to witness Dr. Funke’s insufferably arrogant demeanor. 

Turning back to the doctor, Thalassa spoke up “I didn’t get the chance to introduce her earlier. This is the apprentice I’ve been meaning to introduce to you. Her name is Lydia. She’s served seven years in the military, highly disciplined, and a quick learner. You wouldn’t want an apprentice who’s fond of coming in late and leaving early, right?” 

“Lydia, huh? But she looks like she could be a linebacker, not exactly the sweet type,” Dr. Funke remarked with a cursory glance at Lydia 

“Are you looking for an apprentice or a date?” Lydia retorted, her straightforward nature getting the best of her. 

“I’m in the market for both,” Dr. Funke replied unabashedly. 

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Lydia’s eyebrows knitted together in annoyance. “Just so you know, I agreed to be your apprentice but nothing more. So don’t get any other ideas!” 

“I haven’t decided on taking you on as an apprentice yet,” Dr. Funke countered. 

Thalassa felt her heart sink amid their verbal spar. The situation with Hertha was still unresolved, and now there was this new complication. 

Just as Lydia was about to snap back at Dr. Funke, Thalassa stopped her, her voice a mix of pleading and negotiating, “Dr. Funke, please, can you spare me five minutes? I need to make a quick call and I will be right back to explain everything.” 

Dr. Funke shot her a look, “Go ahead.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Funke,” Thalassa said, nodding in appreciation. 

Without leaving the room, Thalassa dialed Alaric’s number in front of both Dr. Funke and 

Lydia. 

The phone rang only once before it was picked up. “Mr. Falconer, Hertha was in a car accident last night. She’s at Starhaven Hospital now, and I have no idea what her condition is. I can’t leave right now, could you please go check on her?” 

“What? I’m on my way!” Alaric’s voice came through the phone, laced with urgency and 

alarm. 

Thalassa could hear the screech of tires from Alaric’s abrupt stop. 

Before Thalassa could say another word, Alaric had hung up. 

Hearing Alaric’s promise to head to the hospital straight away gave Thalassa a slight reprieve from her worries: 

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Someone had gone to check on Hertha, so there was no rush for Thalassa now. She could take her time resolving Dr. Funke’s issue before heading to the hospital. 

After hanging up the call, Thalassa walked back to the entrance where Dr. Funke stood waiting. “I mentioned yesterday that I’d recommend someone disciplined and quick to learn as your apprentice. Lydia isn’t just self-controlled. She also follows the rules to a tee and learns fast. She checks all the boxes,” she said with a hint of pride. 

It was Thalassa’s way of saying she kept her promise. She really had found a suitable apprentice for Dr. Funke. 

“Ha, I doubt many can endure such a tough mentor,” Lydia quipped, giving Dr. Funke a sidelong glance with a light chuckle. 

“Don’t go claiming mentors left and right. I’m not your mentor yet,” Dr. Funke retorted with a bit of a snarl. 

“As for you,” Lydia snorted derisively, “a doctor who’s all about the bottom line, nitpicking and intimidating. Treating patients with threats? I’d never stoop to acknowledge someone like you as my mentor!” 

“Lydia, don’t speak to Dr. Funke like that.” Thalassa interjected, seeing the argument between Lydia and Dr. Funke escalate. She was a bundle of nerves, worried that Lydia’s words would provoke Dr. Funke into outright refusing to treat Lysander. She feared nothing more than Lysander missing his timely chance for treatment. 

If swallowing her pride and groveling could secure Dr. Funke’s services for Lysander, she’d do it without a second thought. 

Thalassa was on edge, anxious not to botch this apprenticeship arrangement. 

Suddenly, Dr. Funke erupted into hearty laughter. His laughter tensed Thalassa further, her nerves taut as she looked at him, filled with trepidation. 

Lydia was equally puzzled, and she asked, “What’s so funny, old man?” 

After his chuckles subsided, Dr. Funke regarded Lydia with an appreciative gaze. 

Yes, appreciation. 

“In all my years of practice, no one’s dared to call me out directly. That’s right, I’m all about the gains and can be a real piece of work. Still, those who beg for my services never breathe a word against me, only flattery and sycophancy. You, on the other hand, are refreshingly blunt, calling out my faults right off the bat. Aren’t you afraid I’ll just walk away and refuse to treat your friend’s husband?” 

Dr. Funke was actually admitting his flaws. Instead of getting angry at Lydia’s accusations, he seemed genuinely amused now. 

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Thalassa was baffled, unable to comprehend . Funke’s change of attitude. 

Lydia paused, and then, realizing he was serious, she said, “It deep down, you never intended to treat my friend’s husband, no amount of fawning would make you agree. And even if you did, you wouldn’t give it your all. A fjalt hearted doctor is worse than none at all. If you were truly inclined to help, you wouldn’t make it so difficult. So, does it really matter whether or not I offend you?” 

“You do have a point” Dr. Funke conceded with a smile. 

Had Dr. Funke never intended to treat Lysander from the start? 

Thalassa felt as if a cloud had settled over her her spirits as damp as a heavy fog. 

“You old cool, that’s just dirty play! Thalassa, let’s get out of here!” Lydia grabbed Thalassa’s arm, ready to storm off 

“And where do you think you’re going? Weren’t you here to ask for apprenticeship? Why not come in?” Dr. Funke’s voice suddenly called out. 

Chapter 1447 

Thalassa was baffled, unable to comprehend Dr. Funke’s change of attitude. 

Lydia paused, and then, realizing he was serious, she said, “If deep down, you never intended to treat my friend’s husband, no amount of fawning would make you agree. And even if you did, you wouldn’t give it your all. A half-hearted doctor is worse than none at all. If you were truly inclined to help, you wouldn’t make it so difficult. So, does it really matter whether or not I offend you?” 

“You do have a point,” Dr. Funke conceded with a smile. 

Thalassa was at a loss. 

Had Dr. Funke never intended to treat Lysander from the start? 

Thalassa felt as if a cloud had settled over her, her spirits as damp as a heavy fog. 

“You old coot, that’s just dirty play! Thalassa, let’s get out of here!” Lydia grabbed Thalassa’s arm, ready to storm off. 

“And where do you think you’re going? Weren’t you here to ask for apprenticeship? Why not come in?” Dr. Funke’s voice suddenly called out. 

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Thalassa and Lydia had just turned to leave when Dr. Funke’s words brought them to a 

halt. 

Thalassa mulled over what Dr. Funke had said, her heart, which had sunk to her shoes, now thrumming wildly in her chest again. She spun around, her eyes alight with excitement, “Dr. Funke, do you mean…’ 

Lydia was equally astonished, “You agreed?” 

“What else? Did it sound like I was inviting you two in for lunch?” Dr. Funke said, hands clasped leisurely behind his back. 

“Why?” Lydia asked, puzzled. Dr. Funke had clearly refused her moments earlier, stating he wasn’t ready to take on the role of her mentor. 

“I’m a glutton for punishment, I suppose. I enjoy it when people give me a hard time.” Dr. Funke threw over his shoulder, disappearing into the house. 

Lydia and Thalassa exchanged wide-eyed glances, both utterly baffled by Dr. Funke’s words. They blinked at each other, signaling their shared bewilderment. 

Indeed, the temperament of a genius has always been a peculiar thing. 

And unpredictable. 

“Shall we go in?” Thalassa asked Lydia. 

“Of course! Are we really going to walk away empty-handed?” Lydia retorted. She linked. arms with Thalassa, leading her inside. 

Thalassa’s question had been a way to gauge Lydia’s attitude, to see if she still wanted to pursue medical tutelage under Dr. Funke. 

It was clear to Thalassa that Lydia and Dr. Funke were like oil and water, engaging in. verbal sparring the moment they exchanged words. 

If Lydia was having second thoughts, Thalassa wouldn’t force her. 

The night before, on their way to Starhaven, Thalassa had shared the real reason she wanted Lydia to apprentice under Dr. Funke-it was to fulfill two conditions that would convince Dr. Funke to come out of retirement and treat Lysander’s illness. 

Lydia understood Thalassa’s intentions. 

But if Lydia really didn’t want to go through with it, Thalassa would respect her decision. 

To Thalassa’s surprise, Lydia didn’t hesitate to lead the way into Dr. Funke’s residence. 

Dr. Funke’s place was tidy but stark, lacking the warmth of a lived-in home. 

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As they entered, Dr. Funke was in the midst of his morning routine, brushing his teeth and washing his face. 

Thalassa and Lydia stood awkwardly in the living room until Dr. Funke emerged from the bathroom, “Sit down, why are you standing like statues? Make yourselves at home, or do I need to play host?” 

His words were an invitation to relax. 

Thalassa and Lydia shared a glance before Lydia, taking the lead, guided them both to the couch to sit down without further ceremony. 

“Dr. Funke, when do we start the apprenticeship?” Lydia asked eagerly. 

“Stop calling me Dr. Funke. Just call me ‘Old Man,” Dr. Funke suggested. 

Lydia was speechless, and so was Thalassa. 

Neither of them had expected that the eccentric and demanding Dr. Funke would have such an unusual preference-to be called ‘Old Man’. 

He was barely past fifty-not really old by any standard. 

Soon after, Dr. Funke returned from his room dressed in a formal suit. With his hair slicked back, his rigid and quirky demeanor took on a more profound and artistic air. 

Seeing his stern attire, Thalassa and Lydia instinctively sat up straighter. 

“Lydia, come here,” Dr. Funke called. 

Lydia stood up, and Thalassa remained seated until Dr. Funke’s gaze fell on her, “And wha are you still sitting there for? Come over and officiate.” 

Realizing he was addressing her, Thalassa hurried to her feet. 

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The trio gathered before a small shrine dedicated to Dr. Funke’s ancestors. The shrine featured a pastoral painting depicting a countryside village, complete with a majestic pine tree that seemed to welcome visitors. In the center, there were two candles, casting a sacred aura over the scene. 

Dr. Funke flicked his lighter, igniting the candles with reverence. 

“Lydia, come,” Dr. Funke said, glancing back at her. 

Without hesitation, Lydia mimicked Dr. Funke’s actions, placing her incense in the holder. 

Next, Dr. Funke poured six shots of clear, strong liquor. He turned to Lydia and said, “After this, you’ll officially be my apprentice. It’s not too late to back out now.” 

“If I was the type to get cold feet, I wouldn’t be here! Enough talk, let’s drink.” 

Thalassa’s eyes widened in surprise. 

Lydia’s forthright manner was nothing short of daring, and Thalassa feared she might have offended Dr. Funke. 

To her surprise, however, Dr. Funke didn’t seem bothered by Lydia’s brashness. Instead, he laughed heartily and clinked glasses with her. 

Before Dr. Funke could take a sip, Lydia downed her shot in one swift gulp. “Ah, that’s the stuff! It’s been too long!” 

Lydia looked like she was savoring the moment, while Dr. Funke stood momentarily stunned. He then let out a chuckle and finished his shot as well. 

Following the same ritual, Lydia toasted Dr. Funke with the remaining two shots. 

With that, the ceremony was complete, and Lydia was now Dr. Funke’s sole apprentice. 

“Starting the day after tomorrow, you’ll join me at my clinic to learn medicine,” Dr. Funke announced, eager to commence his teachings now that he had taken on a disciple. 

“Dr. Funke, when are you available to check on Lysander?” Thalassa asked anxiously. 

She had done so much just to secure Dr. Funke’s expertise. 

“What’s the rush? Go and make arrangements. I’ll visit him tomorrow morning,” Dr. Funke replied after giving Thalassa a reassuring glance. 

“Alright, I’ll come to pick you up tomorrow morning, Thalassa said. 

“No need. Just give me the address, and I’ll make my own way 

there.” 

Thalassa’s brow furrowed with worry, fearing complications. 

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“Rest assured, since I’ve made a promise, I will ensure your husband receives the best care,” Dr. Funke said, sensing her concern. 

With his assurance, Thalassa felt relieved. “Okay, then we’won’t keep you any longer, Dr. Funke. See you tomorrow.” 

After leaving Dr. Funke’s house, Thalassa sped off towards Starhaven Hospital. 

The words of the police officer still echoed in her mind. Hertha had been in a car accident the night before, and the outlook wasn’t good. 

Thalassa should have gone to Starhaven Hospital immediately, but she had to prioritize Lysander’s treatment opportunity, leaving Alaric to handle Hertha’s situation. 

So far, Alaric hadn’t called her, and Thalassa was anxious about Hertha’s condition. Alaric arrived at Starhaven Hospital as fast as he could. He only knew that Hertha had been taken there for treatment but had no idea where she was. 

Rushing into the hospital, he grabbed a nurse and asked frantically, “Where’s Hertha?” 

The nurse was startled by his intense anxiety and quickly replied, “Sir, please calm down. We have many patients here. If you’re looking for someone, you should inquire at the appropriate department.” 

Feeling a throbbing pulse in his temple, Alaric realized he had been too abrupt, his urgenc causing him to lose composure. 

He hastily let go of the nurse’s collar, took a deep breath, and asked, “There was a woma involved in a car accident last night, brought in by ambulance. Her name is Hertha. Which room is she in, and how is she doing?” 

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Alaric fought to suppress the rising tide of anxiety and concern within him, struggling to sound composed when he finally found the words to ask. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, fearful of hearing the worst possible news. 

After all, a car accident can range from a minor scrape to a major catastrophe. In the worst-case scenario, it could mean a one-way trip to the morgue. Best case, it might involve a few broken bones or some scrapes and bruises. 

The very thought of the word “morgue” made Alaric’s blood run cold, and he silently prayed he wouldn’t hear it from the nurse’s lips 

The nurse, her collar crumpled from Alaric’s anxious grip, tried to compose herself despite the imposing presence of the man before her. 

Alaric, with his striking looks and noble demeanor, was clearly a man of wealth and influence, exuding an intimidating aura that was both frightening and inexplicably thrilling. 

The nurse, barely in her twenties, had never encountered such a handsome man in the flesh. Stealing a glance at Alaric, she felt her heart flutter with a mix of fear and 

attraction. 

Though he had been somewhat rough with her moments before, she was still eager to assist him. “Sir, please come with me. I’ll help you find the information you need,” the nurse said, leading Alaric to the surgical ward. 

Upon inquiring at the nurse’s station, they learned that a woman named Hertha was in the 

intensive care unit. 

“Intensive care?” Alaric’s entire body tensed, his complexion turning ashen, his heart constricting as if caught in a vice. 

“The patient’s file is here. Take a look,” the head nurse said, handing over Hertha’s medical 

records to Alaric. 

The doctor’s handwriting was a scribbled mess, indecipherable to Alaric, especially in his current state of mind. He flipped through the pages haphazardly, then, unable to discern the medical jargon, demanded, “Please, just tell me how she’s doing.” 

The head nurse, taken aback by his commanding presence, replied, “The patient sustained a head injury. She was bleeding profusely upon arrival, but thankfully, we managed to stabilize her. She’s been in intensive care for observation. If she doesn’t develop a fever or any other complications, she’ll be moved to a regular room.” 

She’s alive! 

Clutching onto those words, Alaric’s heart, which had been wound up tight, finally began 

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to uncoil. 

“As long as Hertha’s alive, that’s all that matters,” he thought. 

“I need to see her,” he said, moving to leave. 

“Sir, you can’t go in just yet,” the head nurse called after him. “The ICU has strict regulations. Patients are off-limits to visitors during observation. Give it half an hour; she’s due to be transferred to a regular room soon, and then you can see her.” 

Understanding the gravity of ICU restrictions, Alaric paused. Bringing in outside germs or viruses could be disastrous for the patients. 

“By the way, sir, there’s still the matter of Ms. Hertha’s medical bills. If you’re a relative, would you mind settling the account?” the head nurse asked, handing Alaric the billing 

statement. 

Without hesitation, Alaric took the paperwork. “I’ll take care of it.” 

Half an hour later, Hertha was transferred to a regular ward. 

Alaric entered the room to find her lying on the bed, her head wrapped in bandages, an IV dripping into the back of her hand, and a heart monitor beeping steadily on the 

nightstand. 

The vivacious, lively woman he knew lay silent and still, a stark contrast that unsettled Alaric. A heavy ache settled in his chest-this must be what heartache felt like. 

He approached the bedside, watching Hertha’s peaceful face. Her pale complexion was a grim reminder of her ordeal. Her long lashes lay motionless over her closed eyes. If not for the reassuring rhythm of the heart monitor, she could have been mistaken for dead. 

The sight twisted Alaric’s heart in agony. 

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Alaric dragged a chair over to the side of her hospital bed, his piercing eyes soft with concern despite the scolding tone of his voice. “Seriously, what’s with you? It was bad enough when you were tailgating me, and now you’re doing it to someone else, nearly getting yourself killed. Not everyone’s going to cut you slack like I do, you know.” 

While taking care of the hospital bills, Alaric had called the traffic police to check on the details of Hertha’s accident. They confirmed she rear-ended someone else, which led to 

her own injuries. 

The news that Hertha had rear-ended another car both irritated and amused him. 

It irritated him because, really, couldn’t Hertha take better care of herself? 

It amused him because she was still the same old scatterbrained Hertha, always lost in thought and clumsy, especially behind the wheel. 

“Lucky for you, you got away with just a scare this time. What if you hadn’t been so lucky? What if it had been the end of the line for you? Then what? You’d be gone, sure, but what about me?” Alaric muttered to the sleeping Hertha, his voice tinged with a mix of blame and worry. 

He had never opened up to Hertha about his feelings, and now that she couldn’t hear him, his worry made him reveal more than he intended. 

After all, no one else was listening; it was just him and his own confessions. 

Little did he know, at the very moment he voiced his concerns, someone halted abruptly at the door of the hospital room. 

Georgia stepped back, pressing herself against the wall outside the room to stay out of Alaric’s line of sight. 

Every word Alaric had said, clear and complete, had been overheard by Georgia. Her h felt as though it were being pierced, a wave of anger and resentment flooding her, alm drowning her breath. 

Gracefully, she exited the room, hiding behind the wall. Her breathing was uneven, her eyes filled with rage and hurt, her fists clenched as she fought the resentment boiling inside her. 

Alaric had just implied that if Hertha died, he’d be lost without her! How deeply must Alaric care for Hertha to confess such sincere thoughts while she lay unconscious? 

Everyone knew Alaric as a charming playboy, changing partners as easily as clothes, never really falling for anyone. So, none of his flings could be jealous of another; they were merely temporary comforts for his solitude-fun while it lasted and easily forgotten. 

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Yet here was this notorious playboy, apparently having fallen for a woman, confessing such profound emotions while she lay unresponsive. 

And, of course, it had to be Georgia who overheard it all, her heart aching with jealousy, anger nearly driving her mad. 

She took deep breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her, restraining herself from bursting out and confronting Alaric. 

The day before, it was Georgia who had accompanied Hertha to the hospital, watching as she was rushed into the emergency room. Once Hertha was admitted, the doctors took charge, and there was nothing Georgia could do to interfere. 

Following the surgery, Hertha was moved to the ICU. Unfortunately, during those 12 hours, no one except medical staff could enter the ICU unless there were complications. 

Georgia had hoped for an opportunity to cause Hertha a little mishap but found herself unable to do so. 

She had timed Hertha’s transfer to the regular room, planning to create that little ‘accident’ for Hertha, only to discover she was a step too late. Alaric was already at Hertha’s bedside, uttering those tender, indulgent words that stung Georgia to the core. 

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In the hospital room, Alaric couldn’t contain his inner turmoil as he poured his heart out to Hertha, only to be met with the beeping of the heart monitor as his sole response. 

Hertha lay motionless on the bed, eyes shut, so still it seemed as if Alaric was the only 

soul in the room. 

The once feisty Hertha, who loved to banter with Alaric, now lay silent as if she were nothing more than a breathing statue. 

A heavy pain settled in Alaric’s chest. 

The thought of Lysander, who had suffered a head injury and become comatose, tormented him. He dreaded the thought of Hertha sharing the same fate. 

The feelings he had suppressed within his heart for three long years could no longer be 

contained. 

People can be quite peculiar. When the person they deeply loved was doing well, they would often have countless concerns and would restrain their strong longing, avoiding reaching out to them. But when the person encountered trouble and they realized there was a possibility of losing them forever, the emotions in their hearts could no longer be hidden, and they couldn’t help but reveal them. 

Taking a deep breath, Alaric leaned in close to Hertha, gently lifting her unencumbered hand, his thumb softly caressing the back of it. His voice was hoarse with emotion. “Hertha, I’m sorry. I missed you for three years, but…” 

He paused, swallowing the painful lump in his throat, the rest of his sentence remaining unspoken. 

“But now you’re Spencer’s wife. No matter how much I yearn for you, what can I do? I can’t make you stray, and I refuse to be the villain in your marriage to Spencer,” he thought. 

Outside the room, Georgia struggled to contain the whirlwind of emotions within her, attempting to heed her mother’s advice to stay calm and composed. 

However, the words spoken by Alaric inside the room landed like a brutal punch to her already bruised heart, igniting the simmering rage into a furious blaze that she could no longer suppress. 

Bursting from behind the door, Georgia stormed into the room, nearly hysterical, shouting as she approached Alaric, “Alaric, do you even hear yourself? I’m your fiancée, and you’re here lamenting over missing three years with another woman! Where does that leave me?” Her piercing voice echoed in every corner of the room. 

Alaric’s sorrow was instantly replaced by tension as he looked up to see Georgia, fuming, 

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advancing toward the bedside. 

His heart, clenched, and he stood up abruptly, blocking Georgia just before she reached the bed, his hand pressing against her shoulder as he pushed her back. “Georgia, if you want to lose it, go home!” 

As he spoke angrily, Alaric measured his strength, pushing Georgia out of the room. 

He was anxious; Hertha had just been transferred from the ICU to a regular ward and was still in a critical state. Georgia’s shrill voice could deafen anyone, let alone Hertha, who had suffered a head injury. Any carelessness could be life-threatening. 

Desperately, he tried to get Georgia out of the room. 

“Alaric, let go of me!” Georgia was on the edge of a breakdown, her anger boiling over as 

she had come to confront Alaric. 

Alaric, in his single-minded focus on another woman, treated her rudely, physically pushing her out of the room without a hint of gentleness, causing her shoulder blades to 

ache from the force. 

Feeling uncherished only fueled Georgia’s fury, her heart close to bursting with anger. 

But Alaric wouldn’t listen to her; his mind was consumed with thoughts of Hertha. If he allowed Georgia to continue her tirade in the room, Hertha’s life could be at risk at any 

moment. 

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Even if it meant shattering her pride, Alaric was determined to eject Georgia from the hospital room. 

No matter how fierce or defiant Georgia was, her frail figure stood no chance against Alaric’s towering presence. With a significant height and strength advantage, Alaric easily ushered her out of the room despite her struggles. He even had the audacity to shut the door behind him, ensuring that Hertha could rest without disturbance from the commotion outside. 

Alaric’s actions struck directly at Georgia’s heart. 

He knew exactly how to push her buttons. The more she loathed something, the more meticulously he’d go about it, punctuating his every move with infuriating precision. 

She couldn’t stand the thought of him caring for Hertha, yet there he was, handling her roughly while showing the utmost care to close the door gently, as if the mere whisper of sound would shatter Hertha’s peace. 

Blinded by rage, Georgia’s hand flew up, aiming a slap at Alaric’s face. 

She was a spoiled heiress, pampered and adored by her parents all her life. Impulsive and unbridled, she never considered the consequences of her actions. 

Anger demanded release. 

Georgia’s face twisted in fury, her hand cut through the air, aiming for the flawless canvas that was Alaric’s face. 

But moments before her strike could land, her wrist was caught in an iron grip. 

“Georgia, I’ve had enough of you!” Alaric snarled, his voice a frigid lash as he held her wrist. “Get out! I don’t want to see your face again!” 

With that, he flung her hand away. 

Stumbling backward, Georgia barely managed to steady herself when she saw Alaric pull out his phone and dial. “Mom, come to Starhaven Hospital and take Georgia away. From today onward, you either lose the Reed family as your in-laws or you lose me as your son. Your choice!” 

“No, don’t call Angelina!” Georgia realized Alaric was phoning his mother and lunged for the phone. 

Her brazenness stemmed from the belief that Angelina wouldn’t easily allow Alaric to call off the engagement with the Reed family. If Alaric disowned even his own mother, then Georgia knew she would truly be out of options. 

As she pounced, Alaric held the phone just out of reach. In her haste, Georgia stumbled 

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right into his arms. 

The very second their bodies touched, Alaric caught the acrid scent of her heiress arrogance. His face contorted with disgust, ready to shove her away, when a voice laced with mockery rang out. “Cozying up at the door of Hertha’s hospital room doesn’t seem quite appropriate, does it?” 

Alaric turned towards the voice and saw Thalassa approaching down the hallway, accompanied by a tall, slender woman he didn’t recognize. 

Upon seeing Thalassa, Alaric felt the same rush of anxiety he experienced with Hertha, worried about being misunderstood. He steadied Georgia by her shoulders and pushed her away with visible disdain. “Do I need your permission to call my mother? Georgia, you’re overstepping your bounds! Leave now! I can’t stand another second in your presence!” 

Pushed aside, Georgia felt Alaric’s contempt piercing her like a stiletto heel, further wounding her already battered heart. 

Consumed by pain and anger, she trembled with fury, her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, yet she felt no pain. 

“Why should I leave?” she roared. “Hertha rear-ended my car. She’s entirely at fault and owes me two million in damages!” 

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