The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 604

Once inside, he shut the door with deliberate care. When he spoke again, his tone dropped to ice. "So—you want to arrange a meeting?"

Joaquin's amused drawl drifted through the speaker. "Quinn was beside you just now, wasn't she? Seems you'd rather she stay in the dark about our little rendezvous."

"That is none of your concern," Julius replied, voice razor-thin. "Just give me the date."

"My, my—eager, aren't we? Can't wait to see your old man?" Joaquin chuckled.

"That's right," Julius said quietly. "I can hardly wait."

He was done dancing around shadows. He wanted this face-to-face, wanted to sever the knots of hatred once and for all. And above all, he needed Joaquin Whitethorn stripped of any leverage over Quinnie, forever.

He had honed his plan until it gleamed like a blade, determined that, once it came down, the enemy could never again so much as brush the hem of Quinnie's life.

Joaquin's voice darkened. "Very well. We'll meet then—" He named a date and hour, each syllable dripping with hidden intent.

"Fine." Julius' reply was flat as slate.

The moment the call ended, Julius dialed a second number, finger steady as a trigger.

"Gather a team. Yes—on the day of the meeting. I don't want Joaquin Whitethorn getting away, even if he sprouts wings. And keep it from Mrs. Whitethorn. She must suspect nothing."

After issuing the final set of orders, Julius slipped the phone into his pocket and sagged against the hallway wall. The plaster was cool beneath his shoulder blades, a small mercy for muscles that felt carved from stone.

Doubt coiled in his chest, as tight and restless as a storm cloud. Was this the right choice, or the sort of mistake that could never be taken back?

He knew—had always known—that Quinn wanted him to be honest with her. Secrets, even gentle ones, wounded her more deeply than any shouted accusation.

Yet given her current fragility, he refused to drag her into the long-festering war between him and his father. Last time Joaquin struck, she landed in the emergency room, and they nearly lost their unborn child.

The image of himself standing outside those sliding doors—hands numb, heart flayed raw—still lived inside him with merciless clarity.

"Quinn, just this one time, please. Let me carry the lie alone. For this one battle, I will keep you in the dark." He spoke the words into the empty room, their bitterness scraping his throat like glass.

When Joaquin was finally dealt with, Julius swore he would present himself before Quinn without defense; whatever judgment, whatever punishment she chose to mete out, he would accept it as willingly as a penitent accepts the lash. Compared to her safety, every sacrifice felt smaller than a grain of dust.

Several minutes passed before Julius straightened, smoothed the turmoil from his face, and opened the study door, only to find Quinn standing there, hand raised mid-air, about to knock.

"What brings you over here?" Julius asked, surprise edging his voice.

"You'd been gone a while," Quinn replied, studying the pallor beneath his skin. "I thought I'd check on you. Nothing happened, did it?"

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