Love Unspoken

In the same instant, Walter's eyes fluttered open, a smile of amusement playing on his lips as he gazed down at her.

Quinn, who had been sprawled on the ground, pressed her lips together in a thin line and retreated without a word. She took her place obediently by Walter's side. He observed her for a moment, his smile lingering, before closing his eyes

once more.

Quinn sat in silence beside him, her gaze drifting down to the rope that bound her ankle. The cord was thin, no thicker than a shoelace, yet it was knotted in a way that defied her attempts to untie it.

After a futile struggle with the knot, she slumped back against the tree trunk, exhaustion washing over her. Eventually, she abandoned her efforts to free herself and succumbed to the lull of sleep.

When she stirred awake, she found herself in a car. Lifting her gaze, she saw Walter seated beside her, still clad in the same suit that now bore a traditional touch.

Strands of hair framed his face, partially obscuring his cheek and making it difficult for Quinn to decipher his expression. She attempted to sit up and peered outside.

A torrential rain had begun, its furious onslaught against the windows blurring the view beyond.

Quinn pressed her lips together once more, clueless about their current location. Quietly, she redirected her gaze to the interior of the car. Meanwhile, Alexander was paying a visit to Freya.

Upon seeing him, Freya, overwhelmed with emotion, made to rush forward but was restrained. "Brother!" she cried. Alexander motioned for her to calm down and take a seat.

Composing herself, Freya sat across from him. Her face was noticeably pale, her eyes devoid of life, yet a spark of hope lingered. "Brother, Walter, he..." she began, but Alexander cut her off with a calm, "He's gone." Freya's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Gone?" she echoed.

"Yes," Alexander confirmed.

Freya's already pallid face turned a shade whiter. "Then, what about Harold?" she asked.

"He's still at the Kennedys residence," Alexander replied. Tears welled up in Freya's eyes and streamed down her cheeks, which she hastily wiped away. She had steeled herself the moment she caught sight of the documents, but hearing Alexander's words in person still managed to shatter her heart into fragments.

"Is it true that he doesn't even want Harold anymore?" she asked. Alexander met her gaze, offering no reply. Yet, the answer hung heavily in the silence. Freya stared blankly at the desk before turning back to Alexander, a thought seemingly striking her. "Bro, can I... can I still get out of this?" she asked.

"Yes," Alexander replied. The word was music to her ears, the weight she had felt in her throat sinking back into her stomach with relief.

"But at the trial, what should I say?" she asked.

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"Don't worry, there will be a lawyer," Alexander assured her. "Oh..." Freya opened her mouth to say something more, but Alexander was already rising to his feet.

"I have to go now. Take care of yourself," he said.

She closed her mouth and watched him with an intense gaze. Alexander took a few steps, then paused and turned his head just enough to see Freya's retreating figure. A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes before his expression returned to normal, and he left without a second glance. Kyle Astor arrived in his car to pick him up, holding an umbrella over Alexander's head. "Alexander," he greeted.

"Did you find him?" Alexander asked, his tone neutral, almost lost in the sound of the pouring rain.

Stammering slightly, Kyle responded, "Not yet, but I think he hasn't left Amber Bay."NôvelDrama.Org: text © owner.

Alexander said nothing more and headed for the Bentley, with Kyle hastily opening the door for him.