Chapter 305 Collision Of Desires 

Chapter 305 Collision Of Desires 

45 Fred Coins 

Their mouths collided in a tangle of ragged breath and molten hear, the kiss so intense it seemed intent on melting every last taste and secret between them. 

“Quinnic,” Julius rasped, his voice ground raw by desire, “the fact you came at all–God, it means everything. Help me, please. Let me have you, just once–only once, I swear-” 

Quinn used the moment his mind slipped into feverish haze. With a swift edge of her palm to the side of his neck, she cut the plea–and his consciousness–short. 

His body went slack, collapsing against her slender frame, a toppled pillar suddenly robbed of its fire. Steeling herself, she smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt, straightened his jacket, then hitched an arm beneath his and guided the unconscious man out of the lounge. 

Fabian startled where he stood outside the door. “Ms. Bridger… What on earth?” 

“I knocked him out. We take him to the hospital right now,” Quinn ordered, flicking a glance toward the corridor camera. “Have someone wipe the footage. We leave by the back entrance, car waiting at the rear. Keep this invisible.” 

“Understood.” Fabian signaled two guards. While they helped Quinn maneuver their unconscious boss, he rang the driver and dispatched another man to erase every frame of surveillance. By the time they reached the service exit, a black sedan idled beneath the faint glow of a lone security lamp. 

The bodyguards eased Julius onto the back seat. Fabian turned to hold the door for Quinn–only to find she had no intention of climbing in. 

“Ms. Bridger, aren’t you coming to the hospital with us?” Fabian asked. 

“No.” Quinn’s reply was cool, final. “You’ll have plenty of people around him. He doesn’t need me.” 

“But if Mr. Whitethorn wakes and you’re not there-” 

She cut him off. “Mr. Wooley, I’ll say it once more. Julius and I are finished. Please convince him never again to gamble his health as bargaining chips for me.” 

Fabian managed a rueful smile; persuading Julius had never been within his pay grade. “Ms. Bridger, in this world, you are likely the only person he’ll listen to. I’ve never seen him care for anyone this fiercely- he was willing to wreck his own body just to see you tonight.” 

“You don’t need to tell me,” she said, voice steady as stone. “Whatever there was between us ends here.” 

With that, Quinn pivoted on her heel and disappeared into the dim hallway, footsteps fading like the close of a door that would not reopen. 

Fabian climbed in, shut the door, and told the driver, “Hospital. Now.” 

The sedan pulled away. Watching streetlights slide over Julius‘ pallid face, Fabian let out a long breath that fogged the window. 

Was it really worth it, destroying himself for one fleeting glimpse of her? 

O 

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12:50 Tue, 12 Aug 

Chapter 305 Collision Of Desires 

+5 Free Coins 

He only prayed his boss wouldn’t descend into the same obsessive frenzy that had consumed Julius‘ father -because if that darkness returned, it would ruin them both. 

When Quinn rejoined Laura, her friend looked up in surprise. “You’re back already?” 

“Fabian and the guards are taking Julius to the hospital. My work here is done,” Quinn answered, brushing invisible dust from her sleeves. 

Laura blinked. “Wait–he agreed to go?” 

“Not exactly. I knocked him out.” 

Laura clicked her tongue, half in awe, half in disbelief; in all of Jexburgh, precious few had the nerve–or skill–to floor Julius Whitethorn. 

A sudden shrick tore through the corridor. “Pervert! Somebody call security–security!” 

The quiet reverted to chaos, voices rising in an instant uproar down the hall. 

Quinn and Laura snapped around at the sudden uproar. Beneath the chandeliered foyer, a knot of security guards and camera–wielding reporters pressed in tight around a single spot, their flashbulbs strobing like lightning. 

Snatches of disgusted chatter sliced through the air: somebody scoffed that the well–dressed brute had tried to force himself on a woman, another swore the man must be high, a third cursed the audacity of Grafton Technologies‘ own Trent Grafton. 

Quinn froze, breath hitching, as two guards dragged a shirtless Trent toward the main doors. His skin gleamed with sweat and claw marks, and every step was lit by relentless camera flashes that trailed him like hunters scenting blood. 

• Laura gaped. “What on earth happened to that jerk Trent Grafton?” she blurted, every latent gossip–gene in her body kicking to life. 

Moments later she leaned close, voice low and quivering with excitement. “Guess what? He tried to assault the Wagner family’s heiress and got pummeled by her boyfriend instead. The Wagners run half of Jexburgh’s money. Trent is finished.”