The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 685

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Chapter 685 Father And Daughter

Chapter 685 Father And Daughter

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“Julius, you’d better remember–Dawn is the child you and Quinn share. She nearly died, fighting for her life, to bring that little girl into the world.” Rowan’s jaw clenched; if the man dared to say he didn’t like the child, Rowan was perfectly prepared to knock some sense into his brother–in–law.

His sister and his niece–he would let no one fail them, not even Julius Whitethorn.

He meant every word.

“Are you threatening me?” Julius‘ voice fell to a dangerous hush.

“I’m simply saving you from a future where you beg for forgiveness,” Rowan scoffed.

Dawn squared her tiny shoulders, lifted her chin, and called out, “It’s all right, Uncle Rowan!”

She was only seven, yet the soft curves of her cheeks bore a poise that belonged to someone twice her age; a fragile, practiced maturity shimmered behind those dark lashes.

“Even if Daddy doesn’t like me, that’s okay,” she went on, the words trembling with disappointment yet determined. “I still have Mommy, Uncle Rowan, Ms. Megan, and Ms. Angela. That’s more than enough for me–so really, it’s okay!”

Rowan’s chest tightened until breathing felt like pressing against glass.

His niece was meant to be a child of sunshine, a girl the universe itself would bend to adore.

She should never have been forced to live like this–meek, wary, clutching at scraps of

affection.

Had the Whitethorn family’s chaos not, exploded five years ago, Quinn would never have vanished, and Dawn would not stand here, heartbreakingly sensible before her time.

“Your father may not cherish you, but I do,” Rowan said, voice thick with promise. “From now on, you can think of me as your dad instead.” He reached out, ready to lift the little girl into his

arms.

Another pair of arms swept in faster, drawing Dawn against a broad chest before Rowan could touch her.

“The daughter of Julius Whitethorn needs no substitute father,” a cool voice declared, every syllable edged with frost.

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Chapter 685 Father And Daughter

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Dawn stared at the man who had so suddenly hoisted her up–her real father. The bravery she had stitched together unraveled at once into raw sorrow.

A wail burst from her lips. She burrowed her face into Julius‘ neck, sobbing so hard the sound scraped the walls. Tiny fingers clamped onto the lapels of his charcoal suit, tears and snot soaking the immaculate fabric.

Julius Whitethorn–master strategist, ruler of empires–stood frozen, helpless, as if all his calculations had scattered like ash in a storm.

“H–Hey, don’t cry,” he murmured, lowering his tone without even knowing. “I never said I didn’t like you. There, there.”

Yet Dawn seemed not to hear; her sobs rolled on, fierce and unstoppable.

Everyone else exchanged glances, unwilling to interrupt the fragile moment.

Quinn’s heart tugged at the sight. Even stripped of memories–stripped of whatever they once shared–Julius still carried a tenderness for his child.

Was this the inborn gravity between a father and daughter?

Exhaustion finally lulled Dawn to sleep.

“Hand her to me,” Rowan whispered.

“No need,” Julius replied, passing the sleeping child to Gavin. “Hold her, and run a check on her later. She’s far too thin.”

“Sure.” Gavin sighed, accepting the warm, limp bundle. In moments like this, he felt less like a celebrated physician and more like permanent hired muscle.

Julius turned, his gaze settling on Quinn. “Shall we find somewhere quieter to talk?”

“All right,” Quinn answered without hesitation.

Three hours later, they occupied the penthouse suite of the small town’s sole five–star hotel, city lights flickering beneath the wide windows.

Freshly showered and wrapped in a change of clothes, Quinn appeared renewed–her hair still damp, her skin glowing clean. Julius watched her in silence, noting how the crisp hotel lighting carved gentler angles along the face he once knew so well.

She was heartbreakingly thin. The white gown draped over her fragile frame like cold silk, and every bit of skin that peeked from beneath the fabric declared one brutal truth: she was all

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