The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet (Thalassa and Elowen)

Chapter 1189
Hertha had barely managed two bites of the food before she could no longer feign enjoyment. As the forkfuls piled up, her
stomach revolted against the heavy cream and
cheese.
Forcing herself to swallow, a wave of nausea hit her, and she felt the urge to vomit. She clenched her teeth and endured,
swallowing the mouthful of food before excusing herself, “I’m just going to pop to the loo, back in a jiff.”
Spencer nodded understandingly, “Sure thing.”
“Hey, Thalassa, come with me, will you?” Hertha beckoned her best friend before heading
out.
Once inside the restroom, Hertha leaned over the basin and heaved a couple of times, trying to keep down the culinary disaster.
Thalassa rubbed her back soothingly and offered some sisterly advice, “If you’re not into it, don’t string Spencer along. It’s not
fair to him; he’s an innocent in all this.”
Only a true friend could cut to the heart of the matter with such candor.
Hertha rinsed her mouth out, took a deep breath to steady herself, and faced Thalassa. “I know. I’m going to settle the bill, and
once we’re out of this restaurant, I’ll make things clear to him.”
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She had been ready to come clean to Spencer already, but then Alaric had barged in with Georgia, both families in tow to
discuss wedding plans.
The sight of Alaric, the losses she’d suffered at his hands, ignited a stubborn pride in Hertha. She didn’t want to give him the
satisfaction of seeing her down. So, she had chatted with Spencer as if they were the oldest of friends.
But there was Alaric, seated behind them, cozying up to Georgia, every word a needle to Hertha’s heart.
“Just say you’re full and leave it at that,” Thalassa suggested, seeing Hertha’s discomfort.
“Right,” Hertha agreed with a nod.
After a moment to collect herself, Hertha and Thalassa stepped out of the restroom, only to find Alaric leaning casually against
the wall, his narrow eyes fixed on them, obviously waiting.
Seeing Alaric, both Hertha and Thalassa halted.
Thalassa let go of Hertha’s shoulder, “You two talk. I’ll head out.”
With Thalassa gone, Hertha frowned and met Alaric’s mocking gaze. Her heart skipped despite herself, recalling his earlier
words to Georgia, like how he’d enjoy anything she
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Chapter 1189

chose.
Hertha squashed the flicker of attraction, looked away, and hastened her step.
A hand caught her wrist, halting her escape.
Hertha stopped but didn’t turn around.
Alaric’s grip was firm, his taunting voice breaking the silence, “A returned scholar with a six-figure salary. His annual pay wouldn’t
even cover your daily expenses, would it?”
His scorn was a blade that cut deep into Hertha’s heart, a mix of pain and rage.
Hertha exhaled sharply, her patience at its end. She shook off his hand, spun around to face him, and with a resentful glare, she
snapped, “You’re wrong. I’m not after his money; I’m into him for who he is. But you? All about the cash. I could blow through
your fortune in a day and not bat an eyelid. But his money, every penny he earns, means something. Even buying me dinner
pains me, because he’s worked for it.”
With those heated words, she turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Alaric and his provocations behind.