Love Unspoken

The flicker in Alexander's gaze was unmistakable as he took in the palpable panic that danced in her eyes. Moments later, his hand retreated, and he set off on a direct course for Rivercourt Estates.

Upon arrival, he made a beeline for his study, leaving Quinn in the solitude of their bedroom. She found herself cocooned in the comforter, her mind a whirlwind of disturbing images from the morgue and the haunting words Alexander had spoken.

She couldn't help but draw a connection between the harrowing incident and Alexander himself. That night, sleep eluded Quinn. Each time she dared to close her eyes, nightmarish visions plagued her. She was thrust into a dream where Valerie was caught in a desperate struggle amidst a raging inferno.

As the dream reached its climax, Quinn found herself being consumed by the flames. The heat was so suffocating that even upon waking, the sensation of burning seemed to linger on her skin.

With a gasp, Quinn's eyes shot open, her gaze fixated on the ceiling until the distant rumble of thunder brought her back to reality. She turned her head to peer outside.

The sky was a canvas of dark and gloomy hues, heavy rain cascading down. The newly installed protective mesh stood sentinel by the windows, its slender wires creating a stark division between the villa and the world beyond, akin to a cage. Turning away, Quinn sat up, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead. She climbed out of bed to freshen up before making her way to the kitchen.

However, as she began her descent down the stairs, a frantic knocking echoed through the house, punctuated by the insistent ringing of the doorbell.

Her heart clenched. She cast a glance upstairs, uncertain if Alexander was home. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was already half-past ten, though the gloomy outdoors had led her to believe it was earlier.Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

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Holding her breath, Quinn cautiously approached the door, peering through the peephole. The sight that greeted her was none other than a rain-soaked Freya, pounding on the door with a desperate urgency, her voice echoing through the night as she called for Alexander.

"Alex! Open the door, quick!" "Open up!" After a moment's hesitation, Quinn reached for the doorknob and swung the door open.

The sight of the door giving way brought a flicker of relief to Freya's face. She brushed past Quinn, rushing inside and calling out for Alexander.

When met with silence, she dashed upstairs, her search for Alexander proving fruitless. Quinn remained at the foot of the stairs, a silent observer.

After a thorough search of the house, a frantic Freya returned downstairs, seizing Quinn's arm as she demanded, "Where is he? Where did my brother go?" Quinn could only shake her head; she had no inkling of Alexander's whereabouts. Freya's panic was escalating. She had checked his office, called Getty, and now their house was empty too-where could he possibly be? "Come on, dummy, tell me where my brother went!"

Freya's voice was laced with hysteria as she shook Quinn's shoulders. "Tell me, where did he go? Is he hiding somewhere?!" Dizzy from the shaking, Quinn found herself pushing Freya away in a desperate attempt to regain her balance. Freya stumbled forward, her face a mask of raw panic. In that moment, Freya bore the resemblance of a lunatic.

Her hair, damp from the rain, hung in wild disarray. Her features were contorted as if she had just seen a ghost, her eyes darting nervously, a clear testament to her fear. Freya lunged at Quinn, her hand closing around her throat. "Tell me, where did he go?" Quinn found herself pushed against the escalator railing, a sharp pain radiating from her waist as the bars dug in.