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.

around her heart, and

she lost the ability to connect with others emotionally, assuming

his motives. Doubt gripped her. She feared the answer might reveal a lack of any real purpose behind his

from Nicole's eyes,

it, Roscoe..." Roscoe's composure faltered. The once skilled surgeon was momentarily at a loss,

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

faint. "There's no need

Just turn around,” Nicole persisted, not willing to take

meticulously cleaned the lacerations with

cause Roscoe to stiffen, a sign that such care was foreign

the bandage, Roscoe donned a

piercing the silence. "Roscoe, is it me that you want?" The interplay of light and shadow in the room highlighted the

barely above a whisper, carried an undeniable allure

and selflessness. The thought of easing her conscience through such an exchange crossed her

was folly, trying to awaken him from what she ‘saw as a pointless pursuit with the bait of

needed no enhancement from cosmetics, Nicole's eyes held their own power. Her appeal was undeniable, potent even,

been striving for?" Roscoe's expression shifted into

ache spreading through her chest, pressed on. "Roscoe,

was the naivety of youth from Roscoe's features. He regarded

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 the other to concede defeat first. Roscoe's stubbornness matched her own. His frustration was palpable. He caught her hand firmly, pinning it against the wall, his proximity closing in, his tone roughened. "Nicale..." The way he uttered her name

of certainty amid the tension. Roscoe, in spite of his ire, would not

not

gravity unto themselves, held her gaze, his

flushed with embarrassment, had matured. His proximity sent a flutter through her lashes, a reflex she

barely above a whisper, carried a weight. "Nicole, this is a game to you. Enough." He released her and

in his car outside, succumbing to exhaustion only in

light crept across the horizon, Nicole's