The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 333

“The sedative's almost gone. He'll wake any minute,” Harlan warned, voice low.

Quinn nodded once, certainty settling inside her like a quiet drumbeat, even though the DNA test had yet to be run.

The dose that would have kept an ordinary man unconscious for more than two hours had held him only thirty minutes. His body, like Rowan's, resisted chemicals with stubborn resilience. Exactly like my brother.

“Let's move,” Quinn whispered, tightening her grip on the strands of hair she had collected.

Once the sample reached the lab, they would finally learn whether Leander was truly Rowan.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, Leander's eyes fluttered open.

He pushed upright, scanning the quiet room—alone, just as when he had arrived.

Nearly fifty minutes had vanished. Have I really blacked out that long? So I was drunk and out for almost an hour?

He rubbed at his temple, a dark shadow passing through his gaze.

Elsewhere, Quinn arrived at the laboratory and allowed a technician to draw her blood to compare with Leander's hair sample.

“The report will be ready in two days. Shall we mail it, or—” the technician asked.

“I'll pick it up in person,” Quinn replied, leaving no room for debate.

Only a report handed directly to her would quiet the storm inside.

Back at the hotel, Quinn faced Julius and Harlan. “Thank you for everything today.”

“Quinnie, no thanks needed,” Harlan said, a playful glint surfacing. “But there's something I'd like to discuss with you—privately.”

Quinn glanced at Julius, then turned to him with a gentle smile. “Why don't you head to the room first? Harlan and I will talk for a bit.”

Julius shrugged. “I don't have a key card. Surely you're not planning to break your promise of a proper thank-you?”

Quinn pressed the card into his palm. “I don't break promises,” she said, her voice quiet but firm.

When Quinn used her card and stepped into the suite, she found Julius settled on the couch, back straight, tie loosened no more than half an inch.

A laptop dominated the coffee table, its glow reflecting in his sharp features. Phone pressed to his ear, his free hand danced over the keyboard with decisive strokes.

“Good. Send the entire file set to me. Also, dig into the Fane family in Celosia. I need to know exactly why Everett Fane made that move,” Julius instructed before ending the call.

“You're investigating the Fanes?” Quinn asked, stepping closer.

“Naturally. Leander Fane is likely your brother, is he not?” Julius replied.

Quinn froze mid-step, startled. She had clung to the word uncertain whenever Harlan or Julius raised the possibility, yet Julius now spoke as though it were undeniable.

“Your expression when you look at Leander isn't questioning—it's recognition,” Julius continued, voice patient. “I pulled records. Three years ago, a factory caught fire. Leander was injured there and rescued by a woman named Lena Durand. Soon after, the Fane family attended a charity gala in Doria. From that night onward, Leander surfaced as the Fanes' illegitimate son and left for Doria.”

Quinn's breath caught—the same fire, three years ago.