Love Beyond the Mask by Adelaide Sinclair

Chapter 172

Whitney had rushed to Ludwik’s side upon hearing his anguished cries, her concern for him propelling her

forward

But as she reached the door, Elaine shoved her inside and quickly shut it behind her. Leaning against the door, Whitney caught her breath and studied Ludwik closely.

He was in the throes of self–harm, dragging shards of porcelain across his arm, likely trying to distract himself from the searing pain in his head.

“Ludwik, stop it! You can’t do this to yourself! Let me help you ease the pain, please?” Whitney implored, rushing to his side.

His eyes were bloodshot, no longer recognizing her. Instinctively, he lashed out, driving the sharp shard toward

her arm

Her skin was instantly beaded with droplets of crimson, Gritting her teeth against the pain, Whitney managed a tender, pained smile. “At least you didn’t go for my belly”

1 need to get out!” Ludwik muttered, half–delirious as he pushed past her.

He must’ve realized who was on the other side of the door.

“You can’t go out there; you can’t let them get the upper hand, ruin your life. Your father… he wants to lock you up in an asylum,” Whitney said, her voice thick with urgency as she wrapped her arms around him, her eyes brimming with pity.

His forehead was a map of bulging veins, his gaze filled with extreme agony and fear- a remnant of some childhood trauma. He shook his head helplessly, turning to embrace her. “I don’t want to go there. Please, save

me.”

“Elaine, there must be something you can do. I need to get better fast… to stand up to them!” His words were broken, forced out between waves of pain.

The mention of “Elaine‘ left Whitney frozen, tears streaming down her face.

But she had no time to be sad, no time for jealousy over his trust in Elaine. She would not stand by and watch him crumble, let the Lippert family kick him when he was down. She would cure him; she had to believe she

could.

“Leave it to me. L. Give me your hand,” Whitney called to him, her voice a gentle caress through her tears.

His rage seemed to subside at the sound of her voice, and he slowly calmed down, slumping to the ground and extending his muscular arm toward her,

pulse, Whitney found it wild and erratic. Blood surged from his skull to his limbs, a clear sign of a fevered affliction pressing on his nerves, causing unbearable pain and a violent tendency to lash out in

similar to that of a stranger she had

night, and she couldn’t see his face clearly. He had injured her arm as well, giving her a fair

with him through the

hoped they could work for Ludwik too. After assessing his condition, she picked up the pack of medical needles Elaine had left on the table. Selecting a silver needle, she aimed for a pressure point

afraid, L. I’m healing you.

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18.22

Chapter

she began to hum a lullaby, delicate

seeping into the barren corners of

he slowly wrapped his cold hand around hers,

you that night, he realized, as the melody confirmed

her lap, his hand still holding her wrist

kicked gently.

Mommy’s healing him. Be good, okay?

lay the life within her, a life she

her lip, a bitter taste in her mouth.

and found its way

even knowing he wasn’t fully aware. This moment of interaction between him and their child was precious. “L, do you feel that? It’s grown so much. Will you still love this child?”

brow furrowed in pain, his trembling body seeking warmth even in his vulnerable state.

weakly to Whitney’s belly, as if it were a sanctuary

delirium, he mistook her for

she whispered, feeling a

hope you get well, to smile at

the silver needle, as she looked down at his pained and

you used to make, I could never have enough when I was a child….

turned his head and slipped into a peaceful

dropped. Whitney’s pale hand covered her mouth tightly, muffling the broken

I promised her, to stay by your side, to bear this child and bring you warmth. It

up the needle

more needles into his pressure points, Ludwik’s violent

care unit, there were two doors.

through the small window, listening enviously to the conversations between Whitney

was merely talking in his sleep, her heart eased. Whitney’s treatment was working. She clenched

confrontation in the hallway outside ended, and