NovelEnglishShe 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 cin. 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 cto 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 snew 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.
As she followed Alexander to the garage, she paused at the passenger side of the car. The memory of Getty
sterilizing it with disinfectant flashed in her mind.
"What's wrong?" Alexander asked, noticing her hesitation.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtShe looked up at him, vulnerability etched in her eyes. "Am | dirty?" she asked.
Alexander held her gaze, her pain and helplessness reflected in her eyes. After a moment, he looked away and
guided her towards a different car. "Let's take this one," he suggested.
He knew everything. He knew how Getty's actions had wounded her, yet he had done nothing to intervene. He
had allowed Getty to hurt her, and she was never his top priority.
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Quinn climbed into the passenger seat of the rarely used Porsche, its exterior coated in a thin layer of dust.
Dinner wasn't as intimate as she hoped. Alexander was glued to his phone, leaving Quinn feeling like she was
talking to herself.
After 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 in the room. It was as if he didn't belong in her world.
By the tthey returned home, it was already ten at night. Alexander retreated to his study, leaving Quinn
lying awake, restless.
Abigail had sent her numerous messages, inquiring if she had received the paintings. Quinn couldn't bring
herself to confess that she hadn't seen them before Alexander had reduced them to ashes.
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Abigail reminded her that the world
!
wasn't solely about Alexander-there
were countless beautiful things and
wonderful people put (hpre_She
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epeour uinn to take care of
herself so she could better love her
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baby. "Look at those paintings. There
are blue skies and oceans, majestic
mountains with streams, and the
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most beautiful you. They'll lift your
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spirits," Abigail wrote. The content is
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chapter there!
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Quinn's gaze traced the lines of text
until they seemed QRgpLiosE
ppeaondis tening its grip on
her heart. The content is on
novelenglish.net! Read the latest
chapter there!
If Abigail found out the paintings were destroyed, she'd be so disappointed.
Quinn clutched her phone and closed
her eyes in despaif-gfiejackéd fhe
ART
cpuragdNdype a single response.
‘Maybe people likedon't deserve friends after all,' she thought, a wave of sadness washing over her.
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