"My mom swung by and whisked Georgia away. I can't stand the sight of her right now," Alaric said, his tone laced with irritation as he mentioned the name “Georgia,” his expression visibly uncomfortable as he responded to Thalassa's inquiry.
"I was worried that Georgia's yelling might have disturbed Hertha, so I came to check in," Alaric added quickly, trying to offer some explanation.
Not a word about the kids slipped through Alaric's lips, and Thalassa felt the knot in her chest loosen with relief. This meant Alaric hadn't recognized Julian and Helena, and Bridget hadn't let anything slip.
It made sense, after all. Julian and Helena were a perfect blend of Hertha and Alaric. Helena had Alaric's eyes, but her nose and mouth were pure Hertha.
And Julian? He had Alaric's features—his brows, nose, and mouth—but his eyes were all Hertha, large and round, a distinguishing trait.
Even if Alaric had bumped into the kids, he wouldn't make the connection that they were his own.
"Hertha's fine, she just needs some peace and quiet to recover. No need to worry yourself sick," Thalassa reassured him. "You should head back before your fiancée gets jealous and storms over here to make a scene."
With that, Thalassa began to leave, but Alaric caught her arm. His usual devil-may-care attitude giving way to seriousness laced with a tinge of anxiety.
"Thalassa, my engagement to Georgia was forced."
Alaric was desperate to convey to Thalassa that he had no feelings for Georgia and didn't want to be tied to her in conversation anymore.
It was as if clearing the air with Thalassa would somehow reach Hertha upon waking, as if this confession would relay his true feelings. Because Thalassa and Hertha were best friends, confidantes through and through. Alaric believed that once Hertha woke up, Thalassa would surely pass along his words.
"Whether it was forced or not, the fact that you and Georgia have played house is undeniable. Be a man of your word and take responsibility for Georgia," Thalassa said sternly before walking away with her thermos.
Alaric felt a sting in his heart upon hearing her words. Hertha had really told Thalassa everything, even the most private matters!
She must have been furious and scornful, recounting how she woke to find him and Georgia sharing a bed. That moment in the hotel, Hertha's anger was palpable as she stormed out, severing whatever affection she had left for him.
Breathing heavily, Alaric returned to the hospital room and cast another glance at Hertha. Seeing not only Thalassa but another woman, Lydia, caring for her, he felt reassured enough to leave.
"Excuse me, which room is Hertha in?"
Alaric had just stepped out when he spotted a tall, lean man with gold-rimmed glasses, asking the nurse about Hertha's room with an anxious expression.
Alaric recognized him instantly—it was Spencer!
The sight of Spencer set Alaric's already troubled heart ablaze with fury. He stormed over and grabbed Spencer by the collar. "You, come with me!"
As Spencer braced for a fight but then recognized Alaric, he dropped his guard and followed.
At the end of the corridor, Spencer said, "Mr. Falconer, you can let go of my collar now, can't you?"
Without a word, Alaric's fist connected with Spencer's face, his anger causing his eyes to twitch with intensity.
In a low growl, he spat out, "Spencer, what kind of husband are you? She's been in a car crash, lying in this hospital for over twenty-four hours, and you're just showing up now! She didn't come home last night, and you didn't think to look for her?"
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