Chapter 537

“Let me go! I need to find my mom! My mom!” The young Atticus, though small, was surprisingly strong, throwing punches and kicks at the bodyguard with all his might, squirmed like an eel.

The bodyguard couldn’t harm him. So, his grip wasn’t too tight, allowing Atticus to twist out of his grasp and bolt.

With reflexes honed from years of training, the bodyguard lunged forward, snagging the back of Atticus’

shirt, and hauled him back.

Despite his spirited struggle, Atticus was still just a child, who was no match for the strength of a grown man, much less a trained bodyguard.

His efforts were fruitless.

The four children were brought back to Lysander’s side.

No sooner had the bodyguard loosened his grip than Atticus spun on his heel to make another break for it.

But Lysander’s large hand shot out, gripping his arm. Atticus whirled around, sinking his teeth into Lysander’s hand.

He bit down hard. His whole body strained with the effort.

Lysander held him there. His brows furrowed in a stern expression, but he didn’t let go.

The standoff between father and son was tense. One was refusing to let go, the other was refusing to release his bite.

The two bodyguards watched in stunned silence, as their employer was under attack.

Were they supposed to intervene?

But the culprit was someone they couldn’t afford to cross.

The bodyguards exchanged a baffled look, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Fitch watched from the sidelines, just as helpless. He had no idea how to handle that situation.

He had never married, never had children, and his butler training hadn’t included how to handle kids.

He was at a loss, particularly given the high status of those children. They had to be treated with the same deference as Lysander, and couldn’t be forced to do anything.

So, Fitch was at a loss as to how he could help Lysander out of that predicament.

The usually orderly Royal Estates was thrown into chaos with the arrival of four little whirlwinds.

Atticus bit down on Lysander’s hand with all his might, refusing to let go.

Lysander’s face was an unreadable mask, but he too, stubbornly refused to release his grip.

A minute passed.

Atticus tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, prompting a flicker of fear. He released his bite, his wide, innocent eyes fixed on Lysander. There was a hint of trepidation in his gaze. He had only wanted Lysander to let go, not to hurt him.

Lysander’s stern expression didn’t change as he glanced at his bloodied hand. His voice was cold as he asked, “Feel better?”

Just like his mother, Thalassa, they both had a penchant for biting.

Atticus blinked his large eyes but didn’t say a word.

Lysander pulled out a wet wipe, casually cleaning the saliva off his hand. His voice was low and intimidating, yet remained composed and patient.

He didn’t lose his temper with them.

Even with his patience stretched thin, he endured their ‘naughtiness’, putting up a resistance.

“I told you, behave well and you can see your mother. But so far, you haven’t impressed me enough.”

He hadn’t broken his promise.

They just hadn’t behaved well enough.

Atticus’ eyes flickered, asking, “When will you be satisfied then?”

“That depends on how well-behaved you can be,” Lysander replied.