Love Unspoken

She dashed into the Villa and locked herself in her room. Alexander stayed outside for a bit, waiting until the last bits of trash stopped burning before heading in.

Inside, Quinn was curled up on the floor, hugging herself and staring blankly out the window.

As dusk settled, Alexander came in. He gently opened the door and crouched in front of Quinn, who was huddled in the corner.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Quinn averted her gaze, refusing to meet his eyes. After a moment of silence, he reached out, his fingers gently ruffling her hair. "Your birthday's coming up. How about we celebrate it together?" he suggested.

She hesitated, glancing at Alexander. Quinn didn't know her real birthday. Ulysses had picked the day she arrived at The Kennedys as her birthday. It hit her then it had been twenty years since she first came to The Kennedys. Alexander, noting her subdued reaction, took her hand and gently pulled her to her feet. "Let's go out for dinner and get you some new clothes," he proposed.

With her head bowed, Quinn found solace in the familiar comfort of his presence. He was always there to mend her broken heart, piece by piece. His affections, no matter how insignificant they seemed, were a tenderness she couldn't resist. After all, he was all she had.

to the garage, she paused at the passenger side of the car. The memory of Getty sterilizing

wrong?" Alexander asked, noticing her

vulnerability etched in her eyes. "Am

and helplessness reflected in her eyes. After a moment, he looked away and guided her towards a different car.

done nothing to intervene. He had allowed Getty to hurt

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the passenger seat of the rarely used Porsche, its exterior coated in a thin layer

hoped. Alexander was glued to his phone, leaving Quinn

the meal, Alexander purchased an array of clothes for her, filling the entire trunk. There were dresses and casual attire. Their dressing room was crammed with her clothes, while his were sparse and scattered. His clothing seemed oddly out of place

returned home, it was already ten at night.

had sent her numerous messages, inquiring if she had received the paintings. Quinn couldn't bring herself to confess that she hadn't

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