Love Unspoken

Chapter 216

Alexander's words were calm and measured. "It's all a misunderstanding," he said.

Wayne scoffed, his voice laced with derision. "Misunderstanding? Seems like you're getting too big for your boots!" With a disdainful flick of his sleeve, he brushed past Alexander and ascended the stairs.

The glance he cast back at Alexander was devoid of any fatherly warmth. It was a frigid stare, as it had always been. Wayne was a man who rationed his praise, even when their business was thriving, he would not utter a word of commendation. Yet, when troubles surfaced, he was quick to lay the blame squarely on Alexander's shoulders, greeting him with nothing more than icy glares and furrowed brows.

Alexander, however, remained unfazed by these harsh words. He watched Wayne's retreating figure with an indifferent gaze before turning away.

He moved towards the two servants who were still kneeling in punishment, their faces contorted in barely endurable pain.

As Alexander approached, they pleaded for mercy. "Sir, spare us, please! We were only following orders; we're not to blame..." "Yes, Sir, please, let us go!"

"Stay kneeling," was all Alexander said before he turned and walked away, their pleas for clemency falling on deaf ears.

...

knee and a stinging sensation on her face. By midnight, the pain had

the blanket and opened a window, letting the cool night air soothe the burning sensation on her

brought on a cold the following day. No fever, just a persistent runny

dragging her painful knee, made her way downstairs and was surprised

in Alexander's handwriting tucked beneath it. His handwriting was as decipherable as hieroglyphs, but after careful scrutiny, she made out the message: Eat well

note advised against venturing outside, but in her current state, she had no intention

adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience-all for free. The next

the table, tasting the food and recognizing the familiar flavor of restaurant

to do but curl up on the couch and

was everywhere on the

Quinn found that the only way to escape Getty's pervasive presence was

was to answer it, but remembering Alexander's

are you home? Alexander sent me

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