Chapter 145 Preserve His Dignity
Preston had been nothing more than a department manager at an ordinary hotel in Seaside City back then. Now, he was a titan of the industry.
Quinlan had known him in those early days, when he was just starting out, and she was the star manager at a premier travel agency. Young, beautiful, and a natural networker, she commanded the lowest rates from a slew of hotels, Preston's included.
The first time he saw her, Preston was utterly captivated. He secured her contact information and launched a relentless campaign of pursuit. Flowers arrived at her office, he waited to drive her home after work, invited her to dinners, and sent expensive gifts—all of which the proud Quinlan politely declined.
In her eyes, he was no different from the swarm of wealthy heirs who pursued her, all seeking the thrill of a novel conquest. Initially, she ignored him, but being disregarded did not deter Preston. It only stoked his desire to conquer.
Quinlan's beauty was like a flower blooming on an unreachable peak, and he believed that if he could pluck her, his romantic life would be complete.
One day, Quinlan was at a social gathering. On the way back from the restroom, in the corridor, a drunk man almost took advantage of him under the influence of alcohol. During the struggle, Quinlan's face and body were injured by the trash can the drunk man picked up. Fortunately, Preston appeared in time, severely beat the drunk man, and then took Quinlan to the hospital.
He watched as the doctor treated Quinlan's wound, his worried eyes filled with heartache. He went to get the medicine, and fearing that she might forget the dosage, he borrowed a pen to mark it clearly on the medicine box before sending Quinlan home.
He didn't try to stay or leverage the situation; he simply saw her to her door and left.
Looking at the elegant characters on the medicine box, Quinlan thought of Preston's handsome face.
It was when one was most vulnerable that the heart was quickest to yield.
She stood by the window, watching as he settled back into his car, and pulled out her phone to dial his number. The moment he answered, she spoke a single word before hanging up.
"Come back."
She saw the car stall, and immediately afterward, the person got out of the car and hurried back.
It was raining that night. He used searing kisses to soothe the wounds on her skin, and with the most primitive, urgent collision of bodies, he broke through the walls she had so carefully constructed. Again and again, he moved inside her, whispering words of love, yet he never once confessed that he was already married.
Quinlan discovered the truth at the height of her love for him. But once a woman was caught in the whirlpool of a passionate affair, escape was nearly impossible. She transitioned from being the deceived party to a willing accomplice, a third wheel in his life who accepted her role. Preston gave her the kind of all-consuming love and adoration most women only dream of, yet the two things he could never offer were a title and a marriage.
Because of their illicit relationship, Quinlan had several miscarriages over the years. It wasn't until she was pregnant with Leopold that her doctor delivered an ultimatum: if she didn't carry this child to term, she would likely never be able to have another.
Preston, upon learning she was carrying a boy, urged her to keep the baby. Quinlan would later understand why: on the very day of her ultrasound, Gemma had given birth to a daughter.
Once the pregnancy was confirmed, Preston convinced Quinlan to quit her job and rest at home. At the time, her company was preparing to promote her to oversee their entire Seaside City operation—a position that would have been another peak in her career, both in status and salary. But swayed by the beautiful lies he wove, she resigned without a second thought, content to be the silent woman behind the successful man.
If only things had gone as she had wished. The peace was short-lived. Gemma, having discovered the existence of Quinlan and her son, hired a group of thugs and descended upon her home. Quinlan was alone with the nanny, who fled in terror. Quinlan locked herself and the baby in the bathroom, but the door was kicked in. They dragged her out and beat her.
The nanny, after escaping, called Preston for help, just as he had instructed her to do in case of trouble—under no circumstances was she to call the police.
When Preston finally arrived, he found Quinlan bleeding from her head, her clothes torn. Gemma had taken a pair of scissors to her long hair, hacking it off in jagged clumps. Her body was a canvas of blue and purple bruises in the most private of places, a portrait of utter degradation.
Preston wrapped her in his suit jacket. Quinlan hadn't shed a single tear while the mob attacked her, but collapsing into the arms of the man she loved, she wept like a child—a torrent of indignation, grief, and pain.
She had hoped, then, that he would finally make a choice. But instead, he pleaded with her not to escalate the situation, not to go to the police. His new venture, the Celestial Waters Hotel chain, was on the verge of its grand opening.
Quinlan knew him too well; he would play the victim, feign weakness, and appeal to her pity to get what he wanted, convincing her to swallow her pride and preserve his reputation at all costs.
On the day of the Celestial Waters Hotel's grand opening, Quinlan moved out with her son. As the car passed by the hotel, she saw him on the stage, radiating an aura of success and sophistication. She felt a genuine surge of pride for him. Then she saw Gemma standing by his side, and the smile on her face dissolved into tears that traced silent paths down her cheeks.
Even then, watching that scene, she clung to the belief that he truly loved her. She had simply forgotten one crucial thing: if he truly loved her, why wouldn't he marry her?
Her gaze drifted into the distance, lost in memory, until Caroline's voice pulled her back.
"Mom. Mom?"
Quinlan blinked, her focus returning to the bottle of water held out to her.
"Here, Mom. Have some water," Caroline said gently.
Quinlan took it and sipped, her eyes scanning the familiar cityscape. "We're almost there."
Caroline smiled. "Yeah, about twenty more minutes. You'll stay at my place tonight. I've already got the guest room ready for you, with fresh sheets and everything."
Quinlan's gaze shifted to Leopold in the driver's seat. He remained silent. "I've already booked a hotel," she stated coolly. "I'll stay there."
"Mom," Caroline started to insist, but Quinlan cut her off, taking her hand. "Caroline, I know you're being considerate, and I appreciate it more than you know. But I've been on my own for so many years. I'm used to the quiet. Don't worry, this won't affect our relationship."
"But the makeup artist has to come early tomorrow morning," Caroline pressed, unwilling to let her mother stay alone. "It might be a rush for them to go back and forth. Just stay for one night. Right, Leopold?"
His name invoked, Leopold met his mother's eyes in the rearview mirror. "She's right. You should cancel the hotel. It really would be tight on time."
With an expression of reluctant concession, Quinlan pulled out her phone. "Fine. If it can't be helped."
After exiting the highway, the car wound its way toward Caroline's apartment complex. As they neared the entrance, a flicker of suspicion crossed Quinlan's face. "Isn't this near Leopold's place?"
Caroline laughed. "You have a great memory, Mom. Our buildings are just across the street from each other. He lives in the complex next door."
The three of them stood waiting for the elevator when Leopold's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, instinctively angling it away from his mother's line of sight. But even in that fleeting moment, Quinlan saw the name: Preston.
Leopold silenced the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Caroline saw it all but chose to say nothing, a silent observer to the unspoken drama.