Love Unspoken

Quinn was in the throes of a fever. Her temperature had skyrocketed to an alarming 108.5 degrees, leaving the doctor utterly horrified. In a desperate scramble, they managed to lower her fever using a combination of physical cooling techniques and fever-reducing medication, throwing every possible solution at the problem.

Alexander, meanwhile, stood quietly to the side, his gaze fixated on her wrist. A ring of broken skin encircled it, blisters creating a stark contrast against the pale flesh. Deep indentations from a tight grip were clearly visible, a silent testament to her ordeal.

After two hours of relentless work, the doctor finally saw the temperature drop on the thermometer. Exhausted, he slumped into a chair, "Mr. Kennedy, the fever has subsided. It's now 102 degrees. We'll check again in the middle of the night to ensure it doesn't flare up. If it remains stable, she should be out of the woods."

Alexander nodded in acknowledgment before asking, "Does she have any other injuries?"

The doctor paused, taken aback. In the rush to cool Quinn down, he hadn't checked for other injuries. "I'll do a thorough check now," he said, his gaze immediately drawn to the wounds on Quinn's wrist.

He gently lifted her hand and pulled back the blankets to inspect her ankles. "This... It appears Quinn was restrained. These marks suggest she was struggling against bindings. The rope has nearly cut into her skin."

being hit or

weighing heavily on him. He glanced back at Alexander, whose expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a complex mix of emotions. "Mr. Kennedy..." "Make sure she gets proper care, otherwise... it's on you," Alexander interjected, his words heavy with unspoken threats. The doctor, taken aback, hastily stood up and fumbled with

watching the doctor like a hawk. Even when there was nothing left to do,

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She seemed hollowed out, as if she'd recently had a miscarriage and failed to recuperate properly, allowing various complications to creep in

now looked like a mere shell of herself. The doctor

"Speak."

unspoken thought

if he couldn't cure her. The doctor spun a little white lie. "Quinn's just got some scratches, nothing serious. She's in pretty good shape." Alexander eyed him intently, as if trying to

you gotta save me. Some producer's trying to screw me

"Hand him the phone."