He Gave Me Hearing, Then Taught Me What Silence Really Means novel Chapter 273

Her expression darkened. She ended the call and completely ignored the man beside her.

Nelson turned to look at her, noticing how she reserved this absolute coldness solely for him. A sharp pang hit his chest, turning his words instantly caustic. "Locking down a guy like that? Watch your back, or you won't even know what hit you. He's hiding a lot of secrets."

Nelson was still looking into Alistair's background, though he hadn't uncovered anything solid yet. He was certain the doctor was leveraging someone else's power to sweep his tracks so flawlessly.

Juniper kept her eyes closed, seemingly dead to the world, and gave no response.

Nelson had his laptop resting on his knees. He was the type of man who worked under any circumstances, but right now, the numbers blurred together. He was suffocating with irritation.

"You're still sleeping with me, yet you're perfectly fine stringing Alistair along. You don't find that disgusting?"

"Are you two actually together? Does that mean you're cheating on him with me?"

"Juniper, don't you think you lack a basic moral compass?"

He fired off question after question, but Juniper remained tightly sealed like a clam, refusing to offer a single syllable.

Nelson snapped his laptop shut with a sharp crack and let out a dark laugh. "Oh, how could I forget? Alistair is just a stand-in. Why would you care about a stand-in's feelings? I bet you're still obsessing over your precious first love."

The more a person talks, the deeper their resentment grows.

Juniper's breathing was faint; it seemed she had actually fallen asleep.

Nelson abruptly grabbed her arm and yanked her toward him. "Talk!"

The moment the word left his mouth, a sharp slap cracked across his cheek.

The sting from the last time she hit him had barely faded a couple of days ago, and now there was a fresh one.

He was starting to think he was a masochist. Now that she had slapped him, he oddly felt somewhat relieved. He stopped demanding answers, stopped provoking her, quietly opened his laptop again, and went back to work.

Sitting in the driver's seat, Quinn Fletcher heard the sharp smack. His eyelid twitched violently.

He glanced in the rearview mirror but wisely kept his mouth shut.

But just as the tip of his shoe brushed the wood, he slowly lowered his foot, turned around, and headed back to the car.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and tugged at his cufflinks, as if the motion would clear the suffocating blockage in his chest.

It wasn't the first time Quinn had seen his boss like this. He quietly stepped on the gas.

Back at his estate, Nelson was utterly exhausted from the chaotic few days in Oakley. He took a shower, powered through two virtual meetings, and finally collapsed into bed.

He hadn't paid much attention to the gash on his hand. It had gotten wet in the shower, and he almost hoped it would get infected—maybe then someone would actually care.

But the moment the thought crossed his mind, a wave of self-deprecation washed over him.

He closed his eyes in frustration. Juniper was just ungrateful. Beatrice had treated her terribly, yet she had cried until her eyes were swollen, dragged herself back to that town for days, and looked like she had lost ten pounds.

It annoyed the hell out of him.

First thing the next morning, he called his mother. "Don't you have that restorative broth brought to you every day? Have Juniper over to drink a few bowls."