The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet



Lysander had pulled out all the stops, hiring two internationally renowned makeup artists to work their magic for the big day. Their reputation for efficiency and skill was well-deserved; in just about ten minutes, both Thalassa and Hertha were transformed, their bridal makeup complete.

The makeup styles couldn't have been more different. Thalassa's makeup was soft and ethereal, reminiscent of the subtle elegance often seen in Korean beauty trends, while Hertha rocked a bold, dimensional makeup look that was all the rage in Western fashion circles. Each style complemented their bridal gowns perfectly, creating a stunning harmony of beauty.

Upon seeing each other, both brides were visibly awestruck.

"Wow, Thalassa, you look absolutely stunning!" Hertha gasped, genuinely amazed.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

Thalassa was equally impressed. "And you, Hertha, you're radiating such charm today. You look incredible."

It's fascinating how different makeup and styling can utterly transform someone, making them look like a completely new person.

"If I were a guy, I'd fall for you in a heartbeat," Hertha chuckled, teasing.

"Right back at you," Thalassa quipped in response.

Sharing a laugh, they linked arms and made their way out of the makeup room, ready to face the next part of their special day.

Outside, a stage adorned with roses and filled with the scent of romance awaited them. The officiant had just finished speaking, and their grooms stood there, awaiting their brides with anticipation.

As they stepped out, Hertha's father was already there, ready to escort his daughter. "There you are! The groom's getting anxious," he joked as he took Hertha's hand.

Hertha, ever so casual, let her father lead. "Let him wait a little; it's good for him. By the way, have you seen Julian and Helena? They're supposed to be our flower children. They better not mess up."

"Don't worry, your mom's getting them ready. They'll be right there, holding your train and scattering rose petals as you walk down the aisle," her father assured her.

"That's a relief!" Hertha laughed, her joy infectious.

After their brief exchange, Hertha noticed Thalassa standing alone, without anyone to escort her.

Traditionally, the bride would walk

down the aisle, her father by her

side, with children ahead, scattering petals—a beautiful procession

toward her awaiting groom,

Realizing Thalassa's predicament, Hertha looked at her with concern. "Thalassa, how about my dad walks us both down the aisle?"

Even her father, catching on to the situation, offered, "Yes, I can escort you both. It would be my honor."

Thalassa smiled gratefully but declined. "No, really, you walk with Hertha. I'll be fine."

Despite their insistence, Thalassa wanted to respect the familial bond on such an important day. It wouldn't feel right to impose on Hertha's father.

Hertha tried to convince her, "Thalassa, don't be silly. Dad walking both of us down would make him the happiest."

Right at that moment of indecision, a calm, confident voice called out, "Thank you, but I believe I should be the one to walk my daughter down the aisle."

Turning toward the voice, they saw Joshua, dressed sharply in a tailored suit, approaching with a gentle yet authoritative air. His presence commanded attention, yet his smile was soft, filled with warmth and pride.

Thalassa was speechless. Joshua, her father? He had never been invited; how did he know to come today, of all days, to her wedding with Lysander?

As Joshua reached them, he extended his hand to Thalassa. "Let me have this honor," he said, his voice filled with emotion.

Joshua had already publicly

acknowledged Thalassa as his

daughter, making this moment not

just appropriate but deeply

meaningful. Yet, Thalassa was

frozen overwhelmed by his

unexpected gesture to personally ensure she made it to her new chapter in life with Lysander.