Love Unbreakable by Bank Brook

Chapter 453 Nicole pivoted and made her way to Roscoe's door.

Finding it unlocked, Nicole swung it open without a second thought. "Roscoe, what..." she began, but the sight before her cut her words short.

Roscoe was perched on a stool, clumsily dressing wounds that marred his back. A deep laceration ran from his shoulder to his lower back.

Struggling to reach the injury, his efforts to apply medicine were ineffective, and the bleeding hadn't stopped.

Nicole's eyes stung with unshed tears at the sight.

As Roscoe noticed her gaze, he hastily covered up and tried to rise.

‘Stay seated, Nicole insisted, her voice thick with emotion.

She reached out, touching his shoulder gingerly. Roscoe sank back down, attempting to downplay his injuries. "It's nothing, really. It's just now that I've seen it..." Nicole, her tone laden with disbelief, pressed, "Do you take me for a fool?"

In the midst of a heavy silence, Nicole's voice trembled slightly. "Is this from the parking lot incident?" Her mind flashed back to the guards, their hands wielding sinister, blade-like weapons, which she had first mistaken for whips.

Those very weapons were intended for her, but Roscoe had intercepted the blow, taking the hit in her stead. When Nicole broached the subject, Roscoe dismissed it with a stoic front. "It's nothing. I've weathered worse." Nicole, driven by concern, unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the grim reality of his injuries. It confirmed Jarrod's words.

Roscoe's existence within the Watts dynasty was fraught with hardship.

As she reached out, Roscoe caught her hand in a tender grasp, stopping her. "Careful, you'll soil your hands," he cautioned.

Nicole bowed her head, noting the crimson that had already transferred to her skin.

With quiet care, Roscoe wiped her hand clean, ensuring

no trace of the ordeal remained on her.

her heart, and a

assuming she had hardened herself into ‘someone unfeeling and

inner turmoil, she yearned to understand his motives. Doubt gripped her. She

Nicole's eyes, landing on

not worth it, Roscoe..." Roscoe's composure faltered. The once skilled surgeon was momentarily at a loss, his hands fumbling as he tried to comfort her. "Nicole," he uttered softly, a

Nicole mustered a smile and took charge. "Turn around. Let me

was faint. "There's

turn around,” Nicole persisted, not willing to take

to her, Nicole set to work. She meticulously cleaned the lacerations with iodine, applied

to stiffen,

finished with the bandage,

caught his hand, her question piercing the silence. "Roscoe, is it me that you want?" The interplay of light and shadow in the room highlighted the clean lines of Roscoe's face, a stark contrast to the

above a whisper, carried an undeniable allure as she leaned in

Is that what you desire?" oo Nicole couldn't bring herself to accept his sacrifice and selflessness. The thought of easing her conscience through such an exchange crossed her mind, acknowledging her own fears of his genuine, unguarded

from what she ‘saw as a pointless

own power. Her appeal was undeniable, potent

foundation of Roscoe's actions. "Is this you've been striving

trying to ignore the ache spreading through her chest, pressed on. "Roscoe, I can be

with a condition. We end this afterward.” Gone was the naivety of youth from Roscoe's features. He regarded

him, unexpected and jarring. "Alright, let's do it," he agreed, surprising her. A ripple of panic washed over Nicole. The man before her was an enigma, changed from the Roscoe she once knew. Despite the shift, Nicole maintained her poise, her hand curving around the nape of his neck, her facade unwavering. They found themselves locked in a tacit standoff, each waiting for

willed her nerves into submission, seeking an inner tranquility. She held onto a sliver of certainty amid the tension. Roscoe, in spite of his ire, would not hurt

not reveal

themselves, held her gaze, his breath mingling

easily flushed with embarrassment, had matured. His proximity sent a flutter

He redirected the moment's intensity into a soft caress on her cheek. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight. "Nicole, this is a game to you. Enough." He released her and departed, his departure as swift

outside, succumbing to

when the first light crept across