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,

from his skull to his limbs, a clear sign of a fevered affliction pressing on his nerves, causing

of a stranger she had treated years ago.

and she couldn’t see his face clearly. He had

healer’s heart, she had stayed with him through

she had used to treat that man, Whitney 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

jerked violently, and Whitney soothed him with a soft voice. “Don’t be afraid, L. I’m healing you. Just imagine you’re lying in a meadow, comfortable and safe. Shall I hum a tune for you?”

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Chapter

a lullaby, delicate

the barren corners of Ludwik’s heart, bringing solace

and he slowly wrapped his cold hand around hers, gradually closing his eyes.

he realized, as the melody confirmed his

sleep right there on her lap, his hand still holding her wrist and resting

kicked gently.

right here, but he’s sick. Mommy’s healing him. Be good, okay? Once he’s better, in a few months when you’re

lay the life within her, a

bitter taste in her

her murmurs. His hand left her wrist and found its way to her swollen belly,

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

Ludwik’s brow furrowed in pain, his trembling body seeking warmth even in his vulnerable

belly, as if

he mistook her

is too high,” she whispered, feeling a chill envelop

get well, to smile at me

holding the silver needle, as she looked down

cookies you used to make, I could never have enough

and slipped

and finally, it dropped. Whitney’s pale hand covered her mouth

feel responsible. I promised her, to stay by your side, to bear this child and bring you warmth. It was her dying wish,

Whitney picked up the needle and refocused on the treatment.

his pressure points,

intensive care unit,

through the small window, listening enviously to the

merely talking in his sleep, her heart eased. Whitney’s treatment

midnight approached, the confrontation in the hallway outside