The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet novel Chapter 1534

Hertha's mouth opened slightly, and under Alaric's sharp, fox-like gaze, her heartbeat raced, tight and fast. She wanted to say yes, that she and Spencer were expecting a child, but deep inside, a heavy shackle held her back, rendering her speechless.

Just as Hertha was about to speak, Thalassa's voice chimed in, "You must've seen the baby bottles and children's dinnerware in the cupboard. I got those because I was feeling nostalgic about my four little ones. I bought those baby items to comfort myself, and had them delivered to Hertha's place by mistake. Hertha signed for them, and she was supposed to give them to me, but I figured my kids are already seven years old; they've outgrown bottles and such. So, I told Hertha to keep them for her future babies. Hertha and Spencer aren't planning on kids yet, right Spencer?"

After finishing, Thalassa turned to Spencer.

Caught mid-bite, Spencer paused, then nodded.

Grasping the lifeline Thalassa had thrown her, Hertha quickly added, "Yeah, those were Thalassa's, a kind of pay-it-forward gesture. It's been tough for her; her kids were only four when they left her. It's been three years since she last saw her little ones. Who knows how tall they've grown or what habits they've picked up..."

Hertha had been at a loss for how to explain the baby items to Alaric. Thalassa's explanation was logical and fitting, a testament to someone who'd once hidden her children with care and cunning.

Indeed, the person Thalassa had to deceive back then was the powerful, wise Lysander. Managing to keep her children hidden from Lysander for months, Thalassa clearly had a sharp, clever mind.

Keeping Alaric in the dark was, therefore, more than manageable.

Seeing Hertha accept Thalassa's explanation, the tension in Alaric's eyes eased significantly.

It was as if a weight had been lifted.

"I see, I thought you guys had a child seeing the baby items in your cupboard," Alaric explained.

Hertha, inwardly sweating bullets, forced a relaxed smile, "Oh, it's just a misunderstanding. Let me get you a mug. Please, go have a seat for dinner. You're our guest; it wouldn't be right to have you fetching things."

Suddenly polite, Alaric, unaccustomed to such formalities from Hertha, obediently left the kitchen.