Love beyond the mask (Whitney) novel Chapter 687

Ludwik was still sprawled in the mud, unmoved, his once pristine shirt now a testament to his fall from grace. His face, once strikingly handsome, was marred, his lips pressed tight as if holding back the pain.

He was a shadow of the man Whitney remembered. Ludwik, with his imposing presence and icy demeanor, always seemed untouchable, an enigma. Even on his worst days, there was a certain cleanliness to his aura that was captivating.

Now, with his beard unkempt and his face hollow, he seemed lifeless.

What could have brought about such a downfall? Was it really just the Lippert family's financial ruin?

He wasn't one to break easily...

"Hey, wake up..." Whitney bent down to nudge him, eventually resorting to calling his name, "Ludwik, do you even recognize me?"

The man, drunk beyond belief, slowly opened his eyes. Those once sharp glances that could cut through steel were now dulled, hidden beneath heavy eyelids.

He squinted, struggling to make out the figure before him. Though her face seemed to blur in and out of focus, her familiar scent enveloped him, stirring something within.

It was as if her presence alone could resurrect his broken spirit.

"Whitney...what are you doing here?" he managed through clenched teeth, offering a weak smile in what he believed to be a dream, "Is it nighttime? I love the night... It's the only time I can dream of you. In my dreams, you're not mad, you don't scold me... you even smile at me."

Whitney bit her lip, her heart heavy with unspoken words.

Ignoring his drunken ramblings, she insisted, "Stand up."

But Ludwik barely reacted.

Faced with his silence, Whitney sighed. How could he get himself into such a state?

Despite her frustration, she couldn't leave him there. Bending down, she helped him to his feet.

Ludwik, attempting to push her away, murmured, "Don't touch me... I'm filthy... Don't get yourself dirty."

"Stop talking nonsense." Whitney struggled to keep hold of his wavering form, "Where are you staying? I'll call you a cab."

Noticing the warmth on her hand, she looked down to see two deep gashes in his palm, bleeding profusely.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she decided, "Forget it, I'll take you home."

"It's late... You should go home to your kids," Ludwik slurred, trying to push her away as he staggered forward.