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Chapter_78
The words that slipped from Alexander’s mouth hung in the air, cruel and final, like the closing of a door that Quinn could not open. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, pinning her down like a butterfly on a collector’s board, and it filled her with a sense of helplessness she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
Quinn had never been one to ask for much. She had always prided herself on her independence, on navigating the complexities of her life without leaning on anyone for support. But now, standing in front of Alexander, her plea for Juliet’s safety felt like the last thread holding her sanity together.
As Quinn raised her hands, signing desperately, “Can Juliet stay?” she hoped, foolishly perhaps, that her silent request would stir something in him. But instead, Alexander’s response was cold, as if her request was nothing more than an annoyance, a mere inconvenience he would allow only if it came with a price.
Her heart dropped as he gave her the choice—Juliet or Abigail. Choose. But how could she? The two women meant so much to her, and the idea of severing ties with either one was unbearable. She was trapped in a game that had no winner, only losers.
The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, as she tried to steady her breathing, to find any clarity amidst the chaos swirling around her. And then, in a quiet moment of desperation, she asked him, “Would you do the same to Getty?” Her words were sharp, a challenge, a dare.
His reaction was immediate, the coldness in his eyes darkening for just a moment before he composed himself. His voice dropped to a dangerous tone. “Are you questioning me?”
Quinn’s resolve stiffened, her voice silent but her eyes burning with a fierceness she hadn’t expected to feel. She signed again, “I’ve never asked you for anything. Can’t you grant me this one request?”
But Alexander wasn’t done. He moved quickly, his grip on her hands firm, silencing her words before they could escape her lips. “No,” he said, his voice cold and final. Then, after a beat, he added, “Not this time.”
Quinn’s heart twisted in her chest. Not this time.
The weight of his refusal crashed over her, the realization that her request—her only request—had been denied. She tried to pull away, her panic rising, but his grip only tightened, the sharp pressure of his hands on her wrists cutting through her thoughts.
She struggled, trying to break free, but the more she fought, the more he held her in place, his physical presence overwhelming her. She tried to scream, but no sound emerged. Her body trembled with the intensity of the situation, and the sharp edge of the desk pressed painfully into her abdomen.
Every movement felt like an echo of the pain inside her, as if her body and her spirit were both being crushed under the weight of Alexander’s control. She wanted to fight back, to scream, to push him away, but everything in her was paralyzed. Her mind screamed for escape, but her body couldn’t respond.
When she finally mouthed the word, “Stop,” the plea felt weak, impotent in the face of his indifference. His face hovered just inches from hers, his breath hot against her skin, and her heart raced as she realized the depth of his detachment. He was too far gone to hear her silent plea, to understand the pain his actions caused.
