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Novel Catalog
Chapter_7
Getty huffed in frustration and turned her head away from Alexander.
A security guard approached with a tablet, handing it to Alexander. “Sir, here’s the surveillance footage.”
Alexander’s expression darkened as he watched the footage. He had been to Quinn’s workplace before and knew of Abigail and her other hidden identities. But Quinn was nowhere to be seen in the footage. He threw the tablet onto the table, his face tight with frustration. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”
Getty, even more upset by his lack of reaction, snapped, “I’m not going! Let my leg break, at least then I won’t have to hear people calling me a slut every time I step out.”
Alexander’s voice remained firm. “Stop being stubborn. We’re going to the hospital.”
“I said I’m not going!”
Without another word, Alexander picked her up and carried her out of the building.
Meanwhile, Quinn sat behind Abigail, the rain pouring down over her face. She held onto Abigail’s waist, her fingers gripping carefully. Despite the cold rain, Abigail’s back felt warm against her.
Quinn wanted to thank Abigail, but the words wouldn’t come.
For twenty-three years, apart from Ulysses and Alexander, Abigail was the first person to stand up for her.
Abigail paused and glanced down at Quinn’s hand resting on her waist, a sigh escaping her lips. The rain was cold, but what she felt was warmer—Quinn’s tears, hidden in the downpour.
Quinn had finally let herself cry.
Abigail didn’t return to the coffee shop, instead driving Quinn straight to her place.
Once they arrived, Abigail helped Quinn out of the car, guiding her to the door. She removed Quinn’s helmet and gently smoothed her wet hair. “Change your clothes. Don’t catch a cold. He won’t care if you get sick!”
Quinn nodded, signing, “Wait a moment.”
She hurried inside, then returned moments later with an umbrella, handing it to Abigail.
At first, Abigail hesitated, reluctant to accept the umbrella, but seeing Quinn’s hopeful expression, she relented. She took it with a smile. “Alright, I’ll take it. Go inside quickly!”
Quinn hesitated, her gaze lingering on Abigail as if she wanted to see her off.
Abigail rolled her eyes playfully. “Can’t do anything with you.” She opened the umbrella, held it over her shoulder, then mounted her motorcycle and sped off into the rain.
Her voice echoed over the sound of the downpour, “I’m leaving!”
Quinn watched her disappear into the distance, a smile tugging at her lips. It was different from the smile she usually wore, this one more genuine.
Quinn sneezed. She took a hot shower and some cold medicine, but she still felt dizzy. Taking her temperature, she found she had a fever—103°F. She took some fever-reducing medicine and lay down, soon falling into a deep sleep.
When she awoke, she found someone sitting by her bed. In her dazed state, she rubbed her eyes, thinking she was hallucinating.
Turning on the light, she was shocked to see Alexander sitting there, his arms crossed and a stern expression on his face. He was wearing a black shirt with the collar open, sleeves rolled up, revealing his strong forearms. A discreet and expensive watch adorned his wrist, a sign of his prestigious status. His gaze met Quinn’s, his face cold and emotionless. “You slept soundly.”
Quinn knelt on the bed and signed apologetically, “I overslept. Have you eaten?”
Ignoring her question, Alexander said, “Don’t work at the coffee shop anymore.”
Quinn’s brows furrowed as she signed, “Why?”
“Abigail is a bad influence. You’ll be led astray. You’re not going back there. I’ll find you a new job.”
Usually, Quinn complied with whatever Alexander said, but this time, she didn’t.
She signed firmly, “I like it there. I want to keep working there.”
His tone turned colder. “I said you’re not allowed!” His eyes were piercing, filled with anger.
Quinn bit her lip, staring at him. For the first time, she didn’t back down.
She signed, “Is it because of what happened at the company?”
“How dare you bring up the company? Who took Abigail there?” Alexander’s eyes narrowed with anger. Quinn lowered her gaze, not offering any explanation. She stubbornly signed, “I want to work there.”
“Do you dare go and try?” His voice was laced with fury.
Quinn remained silent, her body tense. Alexander stood up and walked out of the bedroom.
As he reached the door, he turned to look back at her. “Don’t let me catch you meeting that Abigail again.”
With that, he stormed out.
Feeling extremely dizzy, Quinn touched her forehead, still burning with fever. She shook her head and quickly got out of bed, barefoot, and hurried after him.
At the staircase, she grabbed the hem of Alexander’s shirt, pulling him to a stop.
He turned to look at her. “What are you doing now?”
Quinn pursed her lips, staring at him for a long moment. Then, as if making up her mind, she released his shirt.
She walked past him, heading toward the living room sofa. She bent down and opened a drawer.
Following her, Alexander watched in shock as she pulled out a divorce agreement—a document that had been there for a while, unnoticed by him. He had never opened this drawer before.
He stared at Quinn, bewildered and confused.
Quinn met his gaze directly, her expression earnest. Though she didn’t speak, everything she wanted to say was clear: Let’s get divorced.
