The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 451

Chapter 451 Hidden Threats

Chapter 451 Hidden Threats

“Looks that way,” Quinn said with a soft smile.

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The words Julius had spoken earlier felt like a key turning in a long–locked door: proof that, in his heart, he had let her in once more.

Meanwhile, in the study of their hotel suite, Julius stood by the desk when Fabian’s call lit up his phone.

“We’ve confirmed your father is in the city,” Fabian reported, a hush of static framing his voice. “Exact address is still unclear, but he’s paid a fortune to hire an overseas hacker outfit.”

“A hacker outfit?” Julius echoed, eyes narrowing.

“Yes, and that’s not all. He’s also spending big to dispatch mercenaries to Celosia.”

“Trace both the hackers and the mercenaries,” Julius said, voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “When you find them, eliminate them all.”

His father hadn’t come to Celosia for sightseeing, not with hired guns in tow.

Is he after me? Or, after Quinn?

He refused to let the same thing happen again. He would not let his father have the chance to strike.

Leaving the study, Julius found Quinn reclining against a heap of pillows, a foreign novel resting open in her hands.

“All finished?” she asked, looking up over the rim of the book.

The bedside lamp painted her in pools of amber, turning the room into something that felt almost holy.

“Yes,” he said, loosening his tie. “So–what do you think of that one?”

“Surprisingly engaging,” she answered, tapping the margin where she had made an invisible note. “The author’s theory takes a road nobody else bothers to pave.”

He remembered, not for the first time, that their bookshelves could be swapped and no one would notice.

“If you’re into that author, I’ve got a few more titles. You can read them when you’re bored,” he

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Chapter 451 Hidden Threats

said.

:

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She lowered the hardcover with a quiet snap, lamplight gliding across her gentle features. “Sure. It’s getting late–go rinse off and climb into bed.”

“Okay.” Julius answered softly, the single word carrying more obedience than a whole speech ever could.

When he came back from the bathroom, steam still clinging to his hair, she was already curled beneath the duvet, breathing slow and even.

He paused at the bedside, studying the calm of her sleeping face. Just looking at her settled something restless inside his chest.

He lifted the covers and slid in beside her. The moment he reached for the switch, the room fell to darkness–and her hand found his, warm, slender, and sure.

“Did I wake you?” Julius whispered, startled by the sudden touch.

“Not really,” she mumbled, voice thick with drowsiness. “My sleep is light, and I can only rest easy when I’m holding your hand.”

“You’re afraid I’ll spend the night staring at the ceiling again?” he asked in a low murmur.

“Mm–hmm… I’m scared you’ll take pills again,” she murmured, half awake. “Julius, promise me -you must never swallow those pills anymore. I want you… safe and sound… every single year that passes.”

He bent closer, gaze lingering on the soft curve of her lashes.

Her breathing settled into an even rhythm; she was truly asleep now.

Safe and sound, huh? He wanted the same for her–year after unbroken year. For that wish, he was ready to sacrifice anything.

Two days later, Quinn walked into the hospital where Margaret was staying, anxiety knotting her palms.

Everett had already spoken to his mother, laying out everything–Quinn and her brother Rowan, and the truth about their late mother, Arlene.

When Margaret first learned her daughter had died years ago, shock nearly stole her consciousness.

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Only the revelation that her daughter had left behind two children kept the older woman from

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Chapter 451 Hidden Threats

collapsing.

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The moment she understood Rowan was her grandson, she drew him into a fierce embrace, tears soaking his shoulder while she searched his features for a trace of the daughter she lost.

Everett then produced the photo album he had brought from Azania–page after page of Arlene’s smiling face.

Margaret wept until her strength waned. Once she calmed down, Everett arranged for Quinn to meet her.

Fearing a sudden surge of emotion might endanger his mother’s fragile mind, Everett chose a consultation suite inside the hospital for the meeting.

A full medical team waited nearby, monitors humming, ready for anything.

If the slightest emergency flared, help would be only a breath away.

Quinn stepped into the room and spotted Rowan, Everett, and several nurses gathered inside.

Yet her eyes went first to the elderly woman seated on the couch.

Margaret wore a flowing black dress, a golden pearl necklace, and matching earrings that gleamed softly beneath fluorescent lights.

Snow–white hair coiled elegantly atop her head. The faint lines across her face made Quinn see, with aching clarity, what her own mother might have looked like in old age.

No introductions were needed; Quinn knew at once this was her grandmother–the woman who had given life to the mother she so dearly missed.

Margaret had only to glimpse Quinn before emotion lifted her from the chair. Her hands shook, and her lips quivered. “Quinn? Is that you, Quinn?” she called, hope and disbelief tangling in every syllable.

“Yes, Grandma, it’s me–Quinn,” she answered at once, her voice soft yet urgent. Injured right leg protesting, she still folded the room into three swift strides, closing the distance before pain could argue.

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