The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 327

The first thing that met her eyes was a patchwork of mottled skin—pale islands against darker ridges, an ugly map scorched into flesh.

The burns did not stop at his shoulder; angry scars sprawled across his chest, coiled over his ribs, and vanished only when they slipped beneath the waistband of his trousers.

Quinn's voice quavered as she whispered, “How did you end up with so many burn scars?” Unable to stop herself, she lifted a tentative hand toward the damaged skin on his shoulder.

But before her fingertips could make contact, he had already tugged his shirt back over his shoulders, sealing the evidence from sight.

Leander fastened the last button and said, “You've seen it, Ms. Bridger. Burns—nothing like the marks in the photograph you gave me.”

Quinn pressed her lips together; the word burn echoed through her mind like a struck bell.

Could these scars be from the blaze five years ago? No. In the clip Marley produced, Rowan's shoulder was still bandaged and raw.

Which meant the man standing in front of her might still be a stranger, wearing a face too familiar to trust.

Quinn swallowed and asked, “When did you get those scars?”

“Three years ago—another fire,” Leander replied. “Now, Ms. Bridger, I've answered every question. I'm obviously not your brother. May I leave?”

Quinn bit her lip. “Would you consent to a DNA test?”

Leander smoothed the fabric over his chest. “I've explained, even showed you my shoulder. You still believe I might be your brother?”

“If I'm to give up, I want to give up completely,” she murmured.

The way he stood there, the quiet in his breathing, everything about him felt uncannily like Rowan. Only Rowan had never looked at her with such wintry detachment.

He lifted his gaze, eyes like sheet ice. “Why should I submit to DNA testing because of a whim? Ms. Bridger, I am not your brother. I couldn't have been clearer.”

A chill opened beneath Quinn's ribs, pulling her heart into something dark and deep. So... he really isn't Rowan?

He had spoken plainly, yet a part of her refused to surrender to the truth. If she quit now, she might never find Rowan again.

After leaving Leander's room, Quinn returned to her hotel room.

The information she had on him still felt painfully thin.

Leander insisted he hadn't lost his memory and that the burns came from a fire three years ago.

That only proved the new scarring now blanketed whatever old wound had once been there.

It did not prove his left shoulder had never been injured before.

One way or another, she would obtain Leander's DNA.

Only then could she accept that he was truly not Rowan.

Is he really sleeping? Here of all places—at my door, in the middle of the night? What on earth is going through that impossible man's head?

Not that anyone would dare swing at Julius Whitethorn. So... has he not been sleeping well?

“I wasn't asleep,” he confessed, voice low enough to almost be stolen by the hallway air.

A hot rush thundered through her ears, loud as a drumbeat.

Color flared across Quinn's cheeks, mortification blooming despite the dim corridor light. So he had been awake when I touched him. Wonderful.

“Then why are you camped outside my door in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?” she demanded, striving for severity that fell a little short.

“I couldn't sleep,” Julius answered simply. “Being near you seemed... easier. I thought the silence might finally let me rest.”

The admission left her momentarily mute. Insomnia had never factored into the myths she had spun about him.

“And you? Where did you disappear to?” Julius asked, his fingers still grazing the back of her hand.

“I went to see Leander Fane.” Quinn slid the name between them like a playing card before adding, “Now please let go and come inside so we can talk.”

Reluctantly, Julius uncurled his fingers, as though surrendering more than just her hand.

Quinn produced her keycard, the lock chimed, and she stepped into the muted hush of the suite.

Julius drifted in after her, the door snicking shut behind them like the closing of a secret.