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 a peculiar sensation pricked at

had thought she lost the ability to connect with others emotionally, assuming

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

spilled from Nicole's eyes, landing

surgeon was momentarily at a loss, his hands fumbling

mustered a smile and took charge. "Turn

was faint. "There's no

argue. Just turn around,” Nicole persisted, not

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

to stiffen, a sign that such care was

finished with the bandage, Roscoe donned a

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

carried an undeniable allure as she

yours. Is that what you desire?" oo Nicole couldn't bring herself to accept his sacrifice and selflessness. The thought of

awaken him from what she ‘saw as

was undeniable, potent even, and for someone like Roscoe, who seemed so unversed in

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

spreading through her chest, pressed

the naivety of youth from

broke from 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 the

willed her nerves into submission, seeking an inner tranquility. She held onto a sliver of certainty amid the tension. Roscoe, in

not reveal her

gravity unto themselves, held her gaze, his breath mingling

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

whisper, carried a weight. "Nicole, this is a game to you. Enough." He

his car outside, succumbing to exhaustion only in the deepest

crept across the horizon,

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