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Novel Catalog
Chapter_68
Alexander’s car glided through the rain, the tires cutting through the slick streets with ease, but inside, he felt as if he were submerged in a slow, oppressive tide. His hands tightened around the steering wheel as he replayed the unanswered calls in his mind. His impatience simmered, a product of the increasing isolation and frustration he felt.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed—Kyle’s name flashing across the screen. With a sigh, Alexander straightened his tie and answered, his voice clipped. “Speak.”
Kyle’s voice was almost too eager, a noticeable shift from his usual calm demeanor. “Getty’s not pleased with the birthday gift. She wanted me to tell you that you need to see her after your meeting with the client. If not, she’s done with you.”
“Understood.” The words were cold, devoid of emotion. Before Kyle could say another word, Alexander ended the call, pressing his foot to the gas pedal. The car sped into the rainy night, its headlights barely cutting through the mist that enveloped the road.
Upon arriving at the Kennedy Residence, Alexander stepped out of the car, a deep sense of weariness hanging over him. His damp hair clung to his forehead, and the chill from the rain seemed to seep deep into his bones, despite his expensive coat. As he entered the house, Kaitlyn and Freya, who had been deep in conversation, both looked up at his arrival.
Freya was the first to react, her sharp eyes noting his condition. There was an almost melancholic aura surrounding him, an emptiness that seemed to weigh him down. She couldn’t quite place it, but something about his presence felt distant, hollow.
“Why are you here, brother?” Freya asked, her tone both curious and cautious as she peeled off her mask of composure, the surprise clear on her face.
Kaitlyn, on the other hand, studied him carefully, her gaze sharpening with the faintest flicker of guilt. She quickly wiped it away, her hands twitching with nerves, though she tried to appear as though nothing were amiss.
Alexander didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Where’s Quinn?”
Kaitlyn stammered before answering, “She left a while ago.”
“Yeah, she’s been gone for nearly an hour and must be home by now. What brings you here?” Freya added, her voice tinged with suspicion.
Kaitlyn, always the more outwardly concerned one, moved closer to him, her hand lightly gripping his arm. “You’re soaking wet. Come inside and change,” she said, her tone soft but strained with an underlying tension.
Alexander met her gaze briefly, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak, his thoughts clouded, but the sharpness in his eyes hinted at something deeper, a foreboding awareness.
As Kaitlyn ushered him inside, her internal thoughts were a whirlwind. That dummy hadn’t told him, had she? It wouldn’t matter if she did. He had agreed, silently, when I decided to terminate her pregnancy last year. Would it really be any different this time? She quickly reassured herself, though the unease gnawed at her.
Alexander, however, did not seem interested in following her suggestion to stay. He glanced at her briefly, his face impassive. Without saying a word, he turned on his heel, walking back out of the house.
Kaitlyn’s face fell, her carefully crafted facade slipping for just a moment as anger flashed across her features. “Alexander!” she called out, her voice sharp, but he ignored her. Without looking back, he returned to his car and drove off.
The drive home was another quiet, somber journey for Alexander. He arrived at the villa, hoping to find some sign of Quinn, but the house was eerily still. The television was on, the light from the screen flickering as it cast strange shadows in the living room. Quinn was nowhere to be found.
He moved through the rooms, his heart growing heavier with each empty space. Even the bathroom, usually a sanctuary for solitude, offered no answers. His eyes returned to the TV, now tuned to a news channel. He reached for the remote and muted it, silencing the incessant chatter of the world outside.
The quietness of the room settled around him like a thick fog. He tugged at his collar, uncomfortable in the silence that stretched out before him. Something didn’t feel right. Something was missing.
Without another thought, he stepped back outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, to find some answer to the gnawing emptiness that seemed to consume him.
And then, through the rain-soaked night, he saw her.
A figure, swaying in the downpour, her movements unsteady. The rain blurred his vision, but there was no mistaking the figure as it came into focus—Quinn. She was soaked, her hair plastered to her face, and her eyes barely open as she struggled through the rain.
Alexander’s heart clenched at the sight, and he instinctively moved toward her, reaching into the car for the umbrella. Holding it over her, he tried to shield her from the relentless downpour, but the damage had already been done. She was drenched, her clothes clinging to her as she stood before him like a fragile ghost.
“Did you walk all the way back?” Alexander’s voice cracked slightly, concern creeping through his typically composed demeanor.
Quinn’s gaze lifted slowly to meet his. Her eyes were vacant, as though she was too exhausted to muster any emotion. She tried to smile, but the effort seemed too much. The corner of her mouth lifted weakly, a faint, broken gesture that made Alexander’s heart ache.
The umbrella was useless now. The rain had already claimed her, and whatever hope she had seemed to be washed away along with the water that clung to her. Her expression was one of pure exhaustion, her body sagging as if the weight of the world had become too much to bear.
