Love Unspoken

Alexander's fingers traced the swollen contour of her cheek, where the brutal assault had left a constellation of blood droplets, hardened into tiny, rough pearls.

"Does it hurt?" he asked. Quinn's lips tightened into a thin line, her head shaking almost imperceptibly in response.

With a swift, protective gesture, he swept Quinn into his arms and made a beeline for the emergency room.

Her knees were a battlefield of glass shards. The doctor, with the precision of a seasoned surgeon, wielded tweezers to extract the larger fragments and scissors to cut through her pants, revealing the smaller ones. Craning her neck, Quinn managed to steal a glimpse of Alexander. He stood by her side, his gaze riveted on the doctor's every maneuver on her wound.

An hour passed before her injuries were finally addressed.

"It's all superficial, nothing hit the bone. Keep the wound dry, change the dressing regularly, and you should heal up in about three to five days," the doctor reassured.

Alexander expressed his gratitude with a curt nod. "Thank you."

Once more cradling Quinn in his arms, he departed the hospital, steering them back to the estate.

His attentiveness was unwavering, his care for her, tender. From the hospital to their home, he ensured that her feet never once grazed the ground.

Seated on the bed, Quinn observed him as he bustled about, fetching water for her to cleanse her hands and face, then descending the stairs to whip up some porridge.

Her fingers interlaced tightly, her eyes shut, she reclined against the headboard.

She cautioned herself not to be swayed by this fleeting kindness; the chilling memories of his cruelty were still too fresh.

The prospect of falling into the same snare repeatedly was a distressing thought.

Alexander settled beside her, a bowl of porridge in hand. "Eat up, then get some sleep early."

Quinn's eyes fluttered open, her gaze meeting his.

Her eyes seemed to harbor a myriad of unspoken words, but after a moment of silence, she quietly accepted the Sebastian he extended.

He fed her, Sebastianful by Sebastianful, and she ate in silence.

Once she was done, he gently tucked her in and caressed her hair, advising, "Rest up at home. I changed the front gate code; don't open the door for anyone, okay?" Quinn responded with a feeble smile, her head bobbing in assent.

"Sleep tight."

He rose and exited the room. As the bedroom door swung shut behind him, her tears cascaded down her cheeks, unrestrained. Upon leaving the estate, Alexander made a beeline for The Kennedys'.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

Kaitlyn had roused, her forehead swathed in bandages, the ominous stain of blood seeping through.

Propped against her pillows, she sobbed uncontrollably, pouring out her grievances about Alexander to Freya, who sat by her side.

"How could he be so heartless? I was practically dying, and he didn't even look back. Oh, Freya, how did I raise such an ungrateful child?" "Mom, you're injured, please don't cry."

"I'm heartbroken." Kaitlyn's eyes were puffy from crying, she clutched at her neckline, gasping for breath.

"You know how he's always been attached to that dummy. When you confronted Quinn like that in front of him, how could he not be upset?"

"And what about Getty?"

Freya was at a loss for words. She couldn't decipher Alexander's thoughts. Branding him a womanizer didn't seem accurate; after all these years, there had only been two women in his life. Yet, labeling him loyal seemed inappropriate too, given his simultaneous involvements with both women.

He had repeatedly sidelined Quinn for Getty's sake, yet he refused to divorce Quinn.

The man was undeniably a puzzle.

Kaitlyn's tears had run dry; a spark of resentment now flickered in her eyes. "That damn idiot, looks like she can't stay any longer; she's actually managed to turn Alexander against me."

Previously, Kaitlyn hadn't taken Quinn seriously, feeling only a mild annoyance at most upon seeing her. She'd always treated her like one of the Kennedys' pampered pets.