The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 494

Chapter 494 The Future Of Fane Group

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The room that had been buzzing fell abruptly silent; every side–branch cousin swallowed whatever protest had been on the tip of the tongue.

As everyone exchanged looks, Jacqueline clenched her jaw and spoke up. “Mr. Whitethorn, I know Quinn is your girlfriend, but you don’t have to invent fairy tales for her sake.”

“Fairy tales?” Julius let out a low snort. “If I prove every word to be true, what price are you willing to pay?”

“Price?” Jacqueline blinked, confusion clouding her features. I only raised a question. Why should that cost me anything!

“Because you have demeaned my girlfriend–the future matriarch of the Whitethorn family- and publicly called me a liar. Insults carry a bill. Jacqueline. You will settle it.”

Jacqueline’s spine locked tight. When Julius cold eyes swept over her, a blast of winter exploded beneath her skin.

Matriarch of the house? Does that mean Quinn is going to marry into the Whitethorn family? The Whitethorns outrank the Fanes in every ledger, Why Quinn always the one fortune smiles on?

Jacqueline glared at Quinn, hatred getting the better of her. ‘Fine. Fix your precious bug all you like. When the system crashes, don’t expect me to clean up the mess.”

She pivoted to leave and, in a burst of petty vengeance, slammed her shoulder into Quinn’s as she passed.

Quinn saw the cheap shot coming and tried to sidestep, but a sudden wave of vertigo slowed her by half a beat.

Her balance gave way, and she pitched toward the gleaming floor.

Julius lunged forward, catching her just before she fell. “What’s wrong, Quinn? Are you feeling unwell?”

“A little,” she admitted, nodding faintly.

“Why are you blocking my way?” Jacqueline shouted, her voice not so much echoing as slashing through the polished lobby like a shard of glass. Panic and fury warred on her face as Julius‘ men locked arms, sealing every exit.

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Chapter 494 The Future Of Fane Group

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Julius stepped forward, his shoes clicking like a metronome set to menace. “You bump into someone and can’t even manage a sorry?” His voice was low, almost conversational, yet each measured syllable pressed on the crowd like added weight.

Jacqueline curled her lip, forcing a brittle laugh. “She didn’t even fall,” she huffed, as though that single fact excused everything.

“Is that so?” Julius‘ gaze flashed, cold and sudden, like steel catching moonlight. Without warning, he closed the distance between them in two deliberate strides, the temperature around him seeming to drop with every step.

Jacqueline’s voice wavered as Julius loomed. “W–What do you think you’re doing?” she breathed, clutching at nerves that refused to steady.

She reminded herself they were standing inside Fane Group’s headquarters, surrounded by employees and cameras. Surely Julius wouldn’t dare cross a real line here—or so she told herself.

The illusion shattered a heartbeat later. No line existed that Julius would not step over; every rumor that called him a madman suddenly felt woefully understated.

Julius lashed out, fingers closing around Jacqueline’s throat with frightening precision, neither too tight to crush nor loose enough to escape. In one swift motion he hauled her toward the emergency stairwell.

Suits and secretaries parted like water, their collective gasp following the pair to the metal door.

Before she could find her footing, Julius bent her backward over the top step, his single hand still pinned at her throat, forcing her vision to tilt at a sickening angle toward the drop below.

Her shoes barely clung to the edge. Desperate fingers clawed at empty air, then settled for gripping the wrist that threatened to determine the length of her future.

All it would take was Julius opening his hand and flicking her away. One careless bounce against the steps could sever a spine, crack a skull, erase a life.

“Help! Somebody, help!” Jacqueline shrieked, the word help dissolving into a raw gargle beneath Julius‘ thumb.

Faces surrounded them–colleagues, interns, security–yet every pair of eyes dropped the moment Julius‘ gaze threatened to sweep their way.

Everett himself remained unmoved, and where the patriarch stayed silent, no subordinate dared utter breath, let alone intervene. After all, no one would dare challenge the man at the

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Chapter 494 The Future Of Fane Group

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Julius‘ mouth curled into a chilling half–smile. “You haven’t even been injured yet. Why scream

for rescue?” The taunt landed with surgical accuracy, mirroring her own dismissive words about Quinn moments earlier.

Color drained and returned in violent waves across Jacqueline’s cheeks, leaving her complexion a chaotic map of red and white.

“Of course, if I let go now, the injuries might finally appear,” Julius murmured, sounding almost academic. “Crack a skull, snap a spine–you could end up vegetative or worse. But don’t fret. The Whitethorns compensate generously.”

Jacqueline’s entire body shuddered. “D–Don’t. Please. I apologize. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

The words spilled out half–choked, driven by the unmistakable certainty that this lunatic would indeed hurl her down the stairs without a second thought.

With a violent flick, Julius yanked her upright, then tossed her to the glossy floor as though discarding a used tissue.

Stumbling to her knees, Jacqueline gathered herself and shot Quinn a venomous stare. In that single look, triumph and defeat changed hands–Quinn the unlikely victor, Jacqueline the humiliated loser.

“I… I’m sorry,” she muttered, forcing herself to stand before Quinn and bow her head in a bitter, sputtering apology.

A swirl of perfume–soaked sweat wafted from Jacqueline’s trembling body, invading Quinn’s nostrils with cloying insistence.

Nausea punched through her stomach, sudden and merciless.

“Ugh-” Quinn slapped a hand to her lips, fighting the urge to retch right there on the marble.

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