Love Unspoken

As he moved towards the storage room, he spotted Quinn, sitting on the cold floor, her arms wrapped tightly around a box, her body wracked with sobs.

It was a scene reminiscent of her childhood when Freya had destroyed her beloved toy, leaving her clinging to a pile of ragged dolls, her tears falling like rain.

A shadow fell across her, and Quinn, her cheeks wet with tears, slowly lifted her gaze to meet the indifferent eyes of the man standing before her.

He was adorned in a robe of champagne hue, his arms folded across his chest as he looked down at her.

Meeting his icy stare, Quinn silently dropped her gaze, rising to her feet to return the box to its place.

But before she could, a slender hand reached out, snatching the box from her grasp. Quinn was taken aback.

Before she could react, the man seized the box and hurled it to the ground. The sound of the box hitting the floor echoed through the room, paper scraps scattering across the floor.

A gust of wind swept in, sending the pieces flying in all directions.

Quinn stared at the fragments, her mind a blank canvas.

She was at a loss for how to respond.

Instinctively, she reached out to gather the scraps, but was abruptly halted as Alexander seized her wrist, pulling her back. In his eyes, she could see a flicker of anger. "Is it really that painful to be by my side?" Alexander questioned, his voice laced with anger, "Do you want a divorce?"

Quinn, trembling, could only stare back at him, words failing her.

"Fine, I'll grant you your wish. Go fly kites, or ride in your goddamn hot air balloons. Have your fill!" With that, he released his grip on Quinn and stormed upstairs, not once looking back.

Quinn remained rooted to the spot, her mind in a whirl. She couldn't comprehend why Alexander had suddenly exploded in such fury, even going as far as suggesting a divorce.

Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through her head, and she clutched at it, slowly sinking to the floor. It felt as if a thousand needles were pricking her brain, threatening to make it burst. The pain was more intense than ever before.

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Unable to withstand the pain, she collapsed onto the cold floor, hoping to alleviate the throbbing in her head.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Alexander was engaged in a call, his face stern.

"Oliver, you're getting a bit impatient," Walter's voice echoed through the phone, his tone slow and deliberate, "To give up these deals over a woman, it doesn't seem like your style."

"If you're just going to spout nonsense, you can hang up," Alexander retorted sharply.

"My leg's injury hasn't healed. How can I 'hang up'? But really, why lose your temper? Galen set this up because he wanted you to refrain from cooperating with them. You can't blame me for your impatience."

"Cutting ties with them means eventually, Galen will start working with Kennedy Enterprise, pushing your partners out. You, as the CEO, might end up like your father."

"The silver lining is that they don't know the real circumstances at Kennedy Enterprise or your true relationship with Galen. They still think of you as an ally. The way you handled Stellan has had some deterrent effect, making them wary. So, there's still a chance."

"If you can reassure these people before Galen sabotages everything, then the situation might stabilize."

Alexander scoffed, "If all you offer is hindsight, I think partnering with you was a mistake. It might be more useful to get rid of you."

"Don't rush; my injury hasn't healed. You'd want me fully recovered before I can handle business, right?"

"Is your mouth or hand broken along with your leg?"

"Hahaha, Oliver, you're in a bad mood. Let's talk when you've calmed down."

With that, Walter ended the call. Alexander tossed his phone onto the desk, massaged his temples, and left the study.

As he passed by the bedroom, he caught sight of luggage strewn across the floor. Quinn was packing her clothes. She was carefully folding her best garments and placing them into the suitcase. The suitcase was overflowing, refusing to close, so she knelt and pressed down on it.

Alexander stood at the doorway, observing her movements, a vein in his forehead pulsating.