My Soul 19

Chapter 19 

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Tracey made any move to break up the fight. Instead, they gently pulled Cynthia behind them. shielding her from any harm. 

“Cindy, does it hurt?” Ms. Tracey asked softly, her heart aching as she massaged ointment into the bruise blooming on Cynthia’s wrist. 

“I’m okay, Mom. I’m just sorry… it’s so late, and we’ve kept you both up all night because of all this,” Cynthia said apologetically. 

The sky outside had already begun to pale. Dawn was breaking. No one had slept a wink. 

“Silly girl, this isn’t your fault,” Ms. Tracey said, smiling tenderly. “If anyone’s to blame, it’s Alexander Lowell. Let them fight 

it out.” 

On the other side of the room, Alexander and Nathan were still at it-fists flying, blood boiling, both their eyes burning in fury. Their bodies were covered in fresh bruises and split skin. 

Nathan wasn’t as fragile as his refined looks might suggest. He might have inherited his mother’s grace and gentleness, but he’d grown up in the military, trained and hardened by discipline and grit. 

The two men fought evenly, neither gaining the upper hand. 

No one knew exactly when they stopped. By the time Cynthia and the Traceys went to check, the brawl had finally come 

to an end. 

Alexander slumped against the wall, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His body was battered-covered in bruises, and drenched in sweat and blood. His dress shirt clung to him like a second skin, soaked through. 

Nathan didn’t look much better. Injuries streaked across his body. 

“Cindy… I’m hurting. Think you could take care of me?” Nathan’s voice was soft and pitiful as he leaned his full weight against her, feigning weakness to draw her in. 

He wasn’t like Alexander. He knew when to show vulnerability. 

And just like that, every bit of Cynthia’s attention went to him. 

In the corner, Alexander’s expression turned pitch black. His fists clenched again, knuckles whitening, rage bubbling just beneath the surface as he fought the urge to lunge for another round. 

Cynthia’s eyes filled with worry as she gently applied medicine to Nathan’s wounds, even blowing softly to ease the sting. Her thin fingers, soaked with acesodyne, carefully traced every injury on his body with unwavering care. 

To Alexander, the scene felt like a knife through the heart. 

She used to do that for him-only for him. She never touched another man so intimately. 

But now… she wasn’t his anymore. 

“C-Cindy… could you help me too?” Alexander’s voice was weak, barely above a whisper. 

But Cynthia didn’t hear him. And even if she had, she wouldn’t have turned to help. 

Alexander I owell could have anyone he wanted to tend to his wounds. He didn’t need her. Before he could say 

73.08% 

another word, Mr. Tracey’s voice rang out, sharp and final. 

“Well? You see now, Alexander? Cindy has moved on. You were the one who pushed her away-what gives you the right to 

try and win her back now?” 

Alexander’s face turned ashen. His lips pressed into a tight, bitter line, his eyes dimming with sorrow. 

He said nothing. 

And then… he left. 

He didn’t even bother taking the luxury car that had nearly been totaled during his reckless arrival. 

Defeat wrapped around him like a noose, each step heavier than the last. 

Regret gnawed at his insides, so overwhelming it felt like it might swallow him whole. 

For the first time, he began to question everything he had done. 

What had he been so afraid of? Social expectations? Outdated morality? 

He was Alexander Lowell. As long as he didn’t care, who would dare speak against him? 

And even if someone tried to smear her reputation, Cynthia had been brave enough to confess her love to him once-what 

right did he have to cower? 

If anyone dared slander her, he could crush them beneath his heel. 

He was the coward. He’d always been the coward.