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Novel Catalog
Chapter_87
Quinn’s breath caught in her throat as Alexander’s words hung heavily in the air. The command to leave was as cold and final as the way he had dismissed the entire ordeal with Joseph. She didn’t quite know why, but something about the way he spoke, and the way his eyes avoided hers, made her feel as if she were nothing more than an accessory in his world. She stood up, her legs unsteady, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on her, forcing her to move even when her body was reluctant to follow.
The room had grown strangely quiet. The tension was palpable, as though everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next move. Quinn couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze as she walked toward the door. Wayne had retreated upstairs, his frustration clear, while Valerie and Hugh had left in a huff, taking Joseph with them. The evening had spiraled so quickly that it felt like a blur, leaving Quinn feeling hollow and out of place, as if she had been caught in the wake of a storm she never asked to be a part of.
Alexander didn’t look back as he led her out, the cool evening air greeting them as they stepped outside. Quinn shivered, but not from the cold. It was a chill that settled deep in her chest, born of the interactions inside, of the sense that she was just another pawn in a game she hadn’t signed up for.
“You still upset?” Alexander asked, his voice low, yet there was a hint of amusement in it as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. His demeanor was almost too relaxed, too unaffected by everything that had just transpired.
Quinn didn’t answer immediately. She couldn’t tell if the question was genuine or if it was just another test. A part of her wanted to lash out, to ask why he was acting so cold, why he’d played along with Joseph’s antics only to dismiss it like it meant nothing. But instead, she found herself unable to speak, the words caught in her throat, tangled in the uncertainty of it all.
Alexander’s car was parked just a little ahead, its sleek black exterior gleaming under the moonlight. He opened the door for her, his hands steady and composed as always. There was no softness, no warmth in the gesture—just a mechanical politeness that made her wonder if he even noticed her anymore, or if she had simply become another fixture in his life.
When she got in, he followed, sliding into the driver’s seat with the same indifference as before. The engine hummed to life, and the car pulled away, gliding smoothly through the empty streets.
Quinn stared out of the window, watching the city lights blur as they passed. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being led somewhere—somewhere she didn’t want to go, but could never escape. She was caught in the undertow of Alexander’s world, and the harder she tried to break free, the more it seemed like he was pulling her back in.
“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?” she finally asked, her voice barely a whisper. The words had slipped out before she could stop them.
Alexander’s gaze flickered briefly to her, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “What do you mean?”
Quinn’s fingers tightened on the edge of her seat, her breath coming a little quicker. “This family… this whole situation. It’s like I’m just… here. A spectator. You don’t really care, do you?”
For a moment, there was silence. Alexander didn’t answer right away, his expression unreadable. Then, just as Quinn thought he might not respond at all, he spoke.
“You’re asking the wrong question,” he said, his voice steady, almost too calm. “The real question is—what are you going to do about it?”
His words hit her like a slap, and Quinn’s chest tightened. She looked at him, but his face was still that mask of controlled indifference. For a second, it felt as though she had just crossed an invisible line, and now there was no turning back.
The car sped on, the hum of the engine the only sound in the otherwise tense silence. Quinn’s thoughts churned, but no answers came. She had stepped too far into his world, and now, no matter how much she resisted, she was trapped.
Inside the house, Freya stood by the window, staring out at the darkness. Her thoughts were a mess, fragments of suspicion and fear clouding her mind. She had seen something in Walter tonight—a side of him she wasn’t sure she could trust. His indifference to the chaos, his subtle support of Quinn, the way he looked at her with that unreadable expression—everything felt wrong.
But what could she do? She had tried to break through to him for so long, and yet, he remained a stranger in her own home. It was as if he existed in a parallel world, one that she could never quite reach. And now, with everything escalating so quickly, she felt more alone than ever.
Walter appeared behind her, his presence almost imperceptible as he joined her at the window. He didn’t speak at first, just stood there, looking out into the night. It was a rare moment of quiet between them, and Freya found herself resenting it more than she should.
“Do you think this is going to end well?” she finally asked, her voice barely audible.
Walter turned to her, his expression unreadable. “End well?” he echoed. “We’re all just playing a part, Freya. Some of us are better at it than others.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his words, the coldness in his tone cutting through her like a knife. She looked up at him, but he was already walking away, retreating into the shadows of their home, leaving her to wonder if he had ever really been there at all.
And as the night stretched on, Freya realized just how fragile everything was. The ties that bound them, the lies they told themselves—they were all coming undone, piece by piece.
It was only a matter of time before it all collapsed.
