Upon touching Quinn''s forehead, the driver recoiled in surprise, his gaze darting towards Walter. "Sir, it appears she has a fever," he announced.


    Walter''s response was curt and devoid of emotion. "Bring her inside."


    "Of course, sir."


    With swift efficiency, the driver scooped Quinn up and carried her towards the vi. Walter trailed behind them, his injured leg dragging with a noticeable limp.


    Quinn had been feeling unwell since the morning, and the evening''s rain had done her no favors. A fever was an inevitable consequence. A fever that spiked at 39.5 degrees.


    In her fever-induced haze, Quinn found herself lost in dreams. Dreams filled with visions of Alexander, a young man d in a crisp white shirt. She often dreamt of him holding her close.N?velDrama.Org content rights.


    In one dream, he took her to an arcade filled with w machines. They spent hours grabbing stuffed animals, filling an entire room with their winnings. It should have been a pleasant dream, but it took a sinister turn when Walter suddenly emerged from the pile of toys, jolting Quinn awake.


    As her eyes fluttered open, she found Walter''s face ufortably close. She instinctively clutched her nket, her heart pounding as she tried to discern whether she was still dreaming or back in reality.


    Walter sat at the edge of the bed, his chin propped up on his hand, a faint smile ying on his lips.


    "What did you dream about?" he inquired.


    Quinn''s gaze flickered, and she shifted ufortably under Walter''s scrutiny. She pushed herself up to a sitting position.


    Walter''s voice was casual, almost nonchnt. "You''ve been in aa for three days, and Alexander hasn''t even asked about you once."


    Quinn lowered her gaze, choosing to ignore him. She refused to believe anything Walter said, even if it was the truth. The first thing she did was check her phone for any messages Alexander still hadn''t added her back.


    Walter sighed, rose from the bed, only to sit back down next to her. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. The moment the screen flickered to life, Alexander''s name echoed from the speakers.


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    "Alexander, can you tell us about your rtionship with Getty?" a voice from the TV asked.


    Quinn''s head snapped up at the sound of his name. On the screen, Alexander stood next to Getty, impably dressed in a custom-tailored suit, his smile polite yet distant. Getty, adorned in exquisite makeup and a morous gown, smiled beside him. They were surrounded by a swarm of reporters, their questions buzzing like a hive of bees.


    "Has Alexander gotten married? Is it to Getty?"


    "We''ve heard that you and Getty have been together for several years. Why haven''t you publicly disclosed your rtionship? And why haven''t we seen Getty''s full face in photos with you?"


    The reporters'' questions were sharp, causing Getty''s smile to falter. Yet, Alexander maintained his cool demeanor, his smile never wavering.


    Once the flurry of questions subsided, Alexander surveyed the crowd, a slight smirk ying on his lips. "So, what concern is that of yours?" he retorted.


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    His response left the press stunned. They hadn''t anticipated such aeback.


    "We''re just asking questions; isn''t that the normal course of a press conference?" one reporter countered.


    "You mean by probing into someone''s private life?"


    "So being a reporter is that tough for you, huh? Why not go into entertainment reporting?"


    Getty''s brow furrowed slightly. She had expected Alexander, having agreed to apany her to the press conference, to publicly acknowledge her as his girlfriend. Instead, he was stirring up controversy. Seeing Alexander unfazed by their tactics, the reporters turned their attention to Getty. "Getty, are you and Alexander spouses or lovers?"


    Getty stole a nce at Alexander from the corner of her eye. Unlike him, she was part of the entertainment circuit that thrived on media attention. A wrong answer could lead to a public bacsh.