Love Unspoken

She addressed the microphone with a strained smile, "Since he's standing here with me, I don't think I need to spell out our relationship, right?"

He was always like this, averse to such events and reluctant to expose his personal life. As a result, he rarely gave interviews. As for her relationship with Alexander, she pleaded with the press to cease their inquiries. "If we were truly, as everyone suspects, 'a secret that can't be discovered,' he wouldn't be standing here with me," she stated, her words a clear message to the press and the audience.

Alexander's presence at the press event, regardless of their relationship's nature, was a testament to his high regard for her. It was unshakeable.

His demeanor towards the reporters revealed his reluctance to be there. Yet, he had shown up. What did that signify? It was a clear display of his affection for Getty.

The young couple stood before the screen, he was strikingly handsome, and she was effortlessly elegant. They seemed destined for each other.

In the midst of the event, Walter had somehow found a seat next to Quinn. "How does it feel?" he queried.

Quinn cast a fleeting glance at him before bowing her head in silence. What feelings could she possibly harbor? She felt nothing.

his tongue, twirling a strand of Quinn's hair on her shoulder playfully. "Still reluctant to leave, huh? You're far

bit her lip, choosing not to

her to face him. His gaze was intense as he proposed, "Quinn, be with me. I'll take you away from here. How about that?" Quinn averted her gaze, but he forcefully turned her face back towards him. "What are you afraid of? Scared I'll

yet?" Walter demanded, his tone shifting as his smile faded. Abruptly, he seized Quinn's hair,

in her eyes. Observing her distress, Walter's smile returned. "Don't be scared. I'm now in partnership with Alexander; I'm not

exiting the room without a backward glance. The door slammed shut behind him with such

retrieved the bag from a chair, and pulled out a notebook. As she was about to write, her gaze landed on the image

Thunderbird Canyon where she saw Getty and Alexander, she hesitated, crossed out the words, and decided not to write anything. What was the point in remembering things when she

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the couch, sipping tea. He was

man, as described by Freya. In a suit, he exuded a completely different aura-hard-edged and regal. Yet,