GoodReadAfter banging on the door got her nowhere, Quinn slumped to the floor, exhausted.
She was in a small, cluttered space, pitch dark. The silence was so intense it felt like even the air had stopped
moving.
The darkness wrapped around her, making it hard to breathe.
Squatting on the cold ground, she hugged her knees. In the room, the only sounds were her own breathing and
her heartbeat.
Alexander had asked her to reflect, but she was at a loss as to what. Was it the five solitary hours she had spent
waiting in the restaurant or the fact that she had seen Juliet home? She didn't know what she had done wrong.
Quinn fumbled in her pocket and withdrew her phone. It was dead now, unresponsive. Curled up behind the
door, she closed her eyes and covered her ears, pretending she was just in her bedroom, and it had simply gone
dark.
She was reminded of a twhen Freya had also locked her in a storage room like this for an entire day and
night. Occasionally, mice and insects would scuttle over her, invoking paralyzing terror in the six-year-old Quinn.
The saddest part was that she couldn't even scream out her fear. She could only scrape desperately at the door,
scratching until her fingers bled. Yet still, no one cto her rescue.
In the end, it was Alexander who had opened that door, leading her out into the light. It was the first the
held her a memory that never faded, the warmth of his embrace still vivid. She could still recall the scent of sun
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtand a hint of mint, the quintessence of youthful spirit.
He had guided her back into the depths, returning her to the very origin of her turmoil.
The image of the young man, once vivid in her mind, began to fracture. As Quinn recalled her past in fragmented
flashes, a sensation akin to an invisible grip tightened around her heart.
Phantom insects seemed to burrow into her memories, leaving her gasping for breath. In desperation, she
tugged at her collar, struggling for air as her heart pounded and her breathing grew more strenuous.
Collapsed on the floor, she weakly tapped the door, clinging to the remnants of hope. Gradually, her efforts
diminished to a mere shuffle. Meanwhile, Alexander had already departed, unaware of the desperate pleas
emanating from the storage
room.
On his way to the office, when Abigail called unexpectedly, he merely glanced at the phone and tossed it onto
the passenger seat.
After many unanswered rings, Abigail's brows furrowed. Deep down, she understood that Alexander wouldn't
take her call.
In defiance, she pounded on the door once more, calling out, "Hobart, Hobart!" with a voice that pierced the
silence. Hobart, the butler, hastened upstairs, arriving at the door with a demeanor of solemn respect, "Miss,
how may | be of service?"
"Where's my brother? Call him. | need to speak with him!" Abigail demanded.
"AL [ :
Oliver hasn't returned yet, miss.
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Furious, Abigail shouted, "Call him
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right now, or I'll jump from the third
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floor!" Hobart, knowing she might
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was with a client when Hobart's call
cin. He pinched the bridge of his
nose in annoyance, excused himself
from the meeting room, and dialed
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chapter there!
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Abigail, can't you just stay put for a
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