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Chapter_47
As Alexander reached for his coat, he glanced over at Getty. “Is there anything else?” he asked.
Getty’s face dropped into a pout, a flicker of hurt passing through her eyes. “Can’t you just stay?” she pleaded softly, her voice tinged with vulnerability.
“No,” he replied, his voice as sharp as ever. He paused, a brief moment of hesitation, before adding, “Not tonight.”
A wave of frustration swept through Getty, her teeth grinding together in silent protest. She knew his decision was final, his mind already made. With a resigned sigh, she let go of him, her hands falling limp at her sides. “Fine, just go then,” she muttered, barely keeping the bitterness from her tone.
She had stayed up with him, hoping against hope that the late hour might make him reconsider, might make him stay just a little longer. But now, as the weight of his cold departure settled on her shoulders, she realized it was all just wishful thinking. Men like Alexander had a strange, almost unnatural ability to take someone on an emotional roller coaster in the span of just a few moments.
One minute, he seemed to genuinely care for her. The next, he dismissed her without a second thought, as though she meant nothing at all. If it weren’t for Getty’s strong mindset, she might have cracked under the intensity of his hot-and-cold demeanor.
And just like that, Alexander left without a backward glance. The man who had tenderly tended to her wounds only moments ago seemed to vanish in an instant, as if he had never been there at all.
At the community clinic, Quinn lay propped up against the headboard, her lips pale and tired. Two police officers and the security guard from the previous night stood by her side.
“That’s what happened,” the security guard explained. “I heard the window break and found her. Got her here and called you guys right away.”
He had been about to leave when the sound of shattering glass reached his ears. It was Quinn who had managed to throw a stone, hitting the opposite window. The guard, startled by the noise, turned back to find her lying on the ground. The residents whose window she had broken were also there, demanding compensation.
One of the officers placed a suitcase at the foot of Quinn’s bed. “Is this yours?” he asked.
Quinn looked up at him and nodded. “Yes.”
“Keep it safe,” the officer continued. “Your ID and everything else seem to be in there. We’ve got a handle on the situation. We’ll catch the people responsible. And here’s the address for the Amber Bay Disability Support Center,” he said, handing her a business card. “If you need help, you can visit them.”
Quinn accepted the card with a silent nod, offering a quiet thank you in return.
The officer then turned to the homeowner, whose window had been broken. “I’ve checked the damage. It’s just a crack. Some glass glue will fix it. No need for a full replacement. Given the circumstances, how about I cover the cost?”
The woman, glancing at Quinn with an air of disdain, masked it with her words. “Oh, great. It’s always my window that gets smashed,” she said, her voice dripping with annoyance.
Quinn kept her gaze lowered, listening quietly as the woman vented.
“Let’s settle it at that,” the officer added. “I’ll cover the medical bills for now. If you run into any more problems or have leads, just come directly to the station.”
Quinn nodded in agreement, silently grateful for the officer’s help.
Once the officers left, the homeowner didn’t budge. She stood there, glaring at Quinn. “Hey, you still owe me for the window,” she demanded.
The woman, probably in her forties, didn’t seem physically intimidating, but her sharp tone gave away her calculating nature.
Gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg, Quinn bent down to lift her suitcase. She opened it and gestured for the woman to take whatever she needed. It was all she had left.
The clothes in her suitcase had been bought by Alexander—expensive items she couldn’t afford on her own.
The woman rifled through the garments, inspecting them carefully, even checking the seams to ensure they were well-made. She finally looked up, assessing the situation.
“You know, that window cost me over three thousand bucks,” she said, glancing at the few items of clothing. “These are worth maybe a thousand at best.”
She began gathering the clothes, a sense of finality in her actions. “Consider it my good deed for the day. Just don’t go smashing people’s stuff next time, okay?”
Quinn remained silent, her expression unreadable as the woman took what she wanted. There was nothing left to say.
