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,

of a fevered affliction pressing on his nerves, causing unbearable pain

to that of a stranger she had treated

couldn’t see his face clearly. He had injured her arm as well, giving her

healer’s heart, she had stayed with him through the night, treating his condition and easing his symptoms.

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 silver needle, she aimed for a pressure point

agitated man 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

1/3

18.22

Chapter

to hum a lullaby, delicate

a familiar spring, seeping into the barren

relaxed, and he slowly wrapped his cold hand around hers,

night, he realized, as the melody confirmed

there on her lap, his hand still holding her wrist and resting across her belly, reminiscent of a father’s hand feeling for the baby inside.

kicked gently.

the treatment, whispering softly, “Baby, your daddy’s right here, but he’s sick. Mommy’s healing him. Be good, okay? Once he’s better, in a few months when you’re born, he’ll be able to hold you. I hope

life within her, a life she was determined to protect.

bit her lip, a bitter taste in

her murmurs. His hand left her wrist and found its way to her swollen belly, where he felt the gentle

fully aware. This moment of interaction between him and their child

trembling body seeking

as if it were a sanctuary

his delirium, he mistook her for his mother.

she whispered, feeling

get well, to smile at me

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

to make, I could never have enough when I was a

head and slipped into a

Whitney’s pale hand covered her mouth tightly, muffling the broken whispers, “I’m

to bear this child and bring you warmth. It was her

her tears, Whitney picked up the needle and

needles into his pressure points, Ludwik’s violent state gradually

the intensive care unit, there were two doors.

enough to see through the small window, listening enviously to the conversations

that Ludwik was merely talking in his sleep, her heart eased. Whitney’s

approached, the confrontation in the hallway outside ended, and