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.

a constriction around her heart, and a

she lost the ability to connect with others emotionally, assuming she had hardened herself into ‘someone unfeeling

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

Nicole's eyes, landing on

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 plea in

smile and took charge. "Turn around. Let me

"There's no need

turn around,” Nicole persisted, not willing

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

delicate touch seemed to cause Roscoe to stiffen, a sign that

the bandage, Roscoe donned a white T-shirt

it me that you want?" The interplay of light and shadow in the

above a whisper, carried an undeniable

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,

what she

that needed no enhancement from cosmetics, Nicole's eyes held their own power. Her appeal was undeniable, potent even, and for someone like Roscoe, who

of Roscoe's actions. "Is this you've been striving for?" Roscoe's expression shifted into one of icy detachment, his

spreading through her chest, pressed on. "Roscoe, I can be yours tonight, but

of youth from Roscoe's features. He regarded her with a discernment honed by

shift, Nicole maintained her poise, her hand curving around the nape of his neck, her facade unwavering.

seeking an inner tranquility. She held onto a sliver of certainty amid

not reveal her

gaze, his breath mingling with the air between

moment, was beyond Nicole's wildest scenarios. The Roscoe she knew, once easily flushed with embarrassment, had matured. His proximity sent a flutter

advance halted. 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

his car outside, succumbing to exhaustion

crept across the