Love Unbreakable

In the room dominated by a grand bed, silk curtains of intricate designs and vivid colors danced lightly, a testament to Davey's eye for detail and depth of treasure for Casey.

Davey, with a gesture as tender as the morning light, tucked a loose strand of hair behind Casey's ear, his gaze heavy with unspoken affection.

Just then, a soft knock interrupted the quiet of the room.

"Come in," Davey invited.

Into the room stepped a woman, her vision framed by black glasses, dressed in the stark contrast of a white shirt and black pants. She was Jimena Hinks, entrusted with the health of the Glyn family as their private doctor.

Noticing Davey by the bed, Jimena offered a bow of respect and voiced her inquiry, "Mr. Glyn, should | administer acupuncture to her now or later?" "Now," Davey stated with a calm that filled the room.

"Very well."

"Now," Davey stated with a calm that filled the room.

"Very well." Davey made way as Jimena drew closer, preparing the ‘space with a professional ease and starting with a head massage meant to soothe Casey into the treatment.

Jimena's hands moved with precision, betraying a dedication to her craft.

Despite the countless times Jimena's hands had performed these motions, Casey's beauty never ceased to dazzle Jimena.

Casey was such a beauty that almost all men would pause in wonder whenever they laid eyes on her. Time had only added layers to her allure, crafting a presence that could stir envy and admiration in any onlooker, not just men.

Davey's choice to shield Casey away in this secluded sanctuary, hidden from the world's eyes for years, suddenly seemed like the only sensible thing to do.

One by one, each slender, sharp needle found its place in Casey's scalp, meticulously activating each acupoint with a gentle precision.

Davey watched this process unfold, his attention unwavering. Despite Jimena's near-decade of service, his trust in her remained guarded, much like his trust in anyone else.

Davey waited silently, until Jimena began the careful removal of each needle after thirty minutes.

It was then that his phone broke the silence, prompting Davey to answer. "What's the matter?" The voice on the other end belonged to Katie.

Even on the phone, Davey's eyes remained glued on Casey and Jimena's methodical movements.

"How long do these injections last, in general?" Katie asked. "It varies. For some, a month. For others, two, even three,’ Davey explained, his tone remaining even.

"And if the last injection is given, will things really happen

as you've said?" Katie probed.

Davey chuckled lightly, his voice as cold as a poisoned blade. "Katie, it seems you're still clinging to a sliver of mercy.

"Davey, | just..." Katie's voice faltered.

"Enough," Davey cut in sharply, his patience frayed. "I'm not your father. | don't have time to guide you through everything.

‘You need to work it out yourself." With a definitive click, Davey hung up.

Suddenly, a sharp exclamation cut through the silence.

"Ah!" It was Jimena, standing by the bed in alarm.

"Casey!" Davey, with swift concern, closed the distance between him and Casey. A thorough look reassured him.

Casey was undisturbed, her peace intact.

"Why the outcry?" The question came from Davey, his eyes sparking with an icy warning, sending a wave of intimidation crashing over Jimena.

"I..." Jimena's words faltered, trapped in her throat.

Davey's gaze followed Jimena's, landing on a solitary drop of blood on Casey's finger. "Did you harm her?" His voice, though laced with worry, demanded an explanation.

"It was because..." Jimena barely began before a sudden movement interrupted.

Smack! Davey's hand connected sharply with Jimena's face. "Ah!" Jimena was sent tumbling to the floor with a startled cry. The slap resounded sharply, leaving its mark.

Jimena cradled her face, now swelling and partially numb, as a trickle of blood edged its way from her mouth, a stark testament to Davey's harshness.

"Jimena..." Davey's voice softened, adopting a calm and gentle tone, his lips curving in a semblance of a smile. Yet, the warmth of his voice belied the coldness of his words, sending a chill through Jimena.

"This is the first time," he stated, a simple phrase heavy with Cominous implication.

Jimena felt as though she had been seared by hot iron.

The memory of Davey uttering these words before lingered with haunting clarity. The individual he had warned previously vanished after a second misstep, only to be discovered later by fishermen, a nameless victim of the sharks.

The chatter among the bodyguards by the door had revealed the fate of the unnamed. Swollen and disfigured from the water, yet still recognizable.

In a silent act of compassion, the bodyguards had managed to secure half of the remains, ensuring a respectful burial.

Davey's words, thus, carried a grave finality, a declaration that there would be no tolerance for a repeat offense.

Overcome with fear, Jimena stifled any words she might have had, her gaze fixed away from Davey.

"Get out!" Davey's command was terse.

Scrambling to her feet, Jimena stumbled in her haste to leave, her exit clumsy yet quick. Despite her disarray, she

made sure to close the door behind her, a small act of propriety in the midst of her turmoil.

As the door shut behind her, Jimena caught a glimpse of Davey on his knees, cradling Casey's delicate fingers as though they were treasures, tenderly removing the dried blood. His expression, a blend of gentleness and sorrow, sent a shiver down Jimena's spine.

With her heart racing, Jimena made her way downstairs, her mind racing over the events that had just unfolded.

During the needle removal, Jimena had noticed Casey's fingers twitch, a sign of life from someone who had been in a coma since a tragic fall five years prior.

Davey had exhausted every possible remedy with no success, eventually turning to acupuncture under Jimena's hand.

Despite the lack of progress over the years, Davey's hope never waned.

It seemed Casey was on the brink of awakening. Yet, Jimena hesitated to raise her hopes or speak of it to

Davey. The fear of what might happen if this were merely a fleeting moment of consciousness was too great. The fate of the man who had erred twice and met his end in the jaws of sharks lingered in her mind as a grim warning.

Meanwhile, at the office, Nicole sat at her desk, closely watched by the observers Jarrod had sent over.

As she reached for her coffee, a slip of her hand sent it sprawling across her white suit, leaving a conspicuous stain. Muttering a curse, Nicole stood up and headed for the company's lounge, hoping to find some way to clean the mess.

As Nicole entered the lounge, the bodyguard dressed in black trailed behind her. Nicole placed a hand against his chest, a playful challenge in her eyes. "Is it Jarrod's orders to shadow me even to the shower?" she asked with a hint of amusement.

The bodyguard, maintaining a facade of professionalism, replied with a solemn tone, "Miss Lawrence, | apologize, but Alec instructed me to accompany you at all times.

"Alright then," Nicole said, her tone shifting as she playfully pulled at his tie, her smile turning inviting. Such a gesture was boldly provocative.

The bodyguard's composure faltered momentarily, a blush creeping up his earlobes despite his efforts to remain composed. He hesitantly followed her inside.

Without a second thought, Nicole shed her blazer, letting it fall to his feet, revealing a strapless black top that accentuated her figure. The simplicity of the black attire became a statement of allure on her.

The bodyguard, caught off guard, managed a cough. "Miss Lawrence, could you please proceed inside to get changed?" "Who said | was going to change my clothes?" Nicole countered, her approach smooth as she slipped out of her heels, her gaze bold and teasing.

She traced a finger along the bodyguard's shoulder, her voice sultry, hinting at an unspoken invitation. "Aren't you aware that a coffee spill calls for a shower?"

Her playful scrutiny intensified as she noticed his flushed face, her smile widening. She lightly touched his chin, the teasing in her voice unmistakable. "Why don't you see if Mr. Schultz's acquaintances measure up?"