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.

felt a constriction around her heart, and a

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

turmoil, she yearned to understand his motives. Doubt gripped her. She feared the answer

eyes, landing on Roscoe's

was momentarily at a loss, his hands fumbling as

away her tears, Nicole mustered a smile and took charge. "Turn around. Let me see to

protest was faint. "There's no need

persisted, not

work. She meticulously cleaned the lacerations with iodine, applied clotting

stiffen, a sign

bandage, Roscoe donned a

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

barely above a whisper, carried an undeniable allure as she leaned in close. "I'm here,

bring herself to accept his sacrifice and selflessness. The thought of easing her conscience through

it was folly, trying to awaken him from what she ‘saw as

was undeniable, potent even, and for someone like Roscoe, who seemed so unversed in matters of the heart, it

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

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

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

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

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

dared not reveal her

gaze, his breath mingling with

wildest scenarios. The Roscoe she knew, once easily flushed with embarrassment,

Roscoe's 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

car outside, succumbing to exhaustion only in

crept across the horizon, Nicole's

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