The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 522

Chapter 522 His Regrets

Why hadn’t she sought me out then? Was it because we broke up?

She knew his family were lawyers and his own reach eclipsed most firms.

With him, Sylas could have carried a heavier label and a longer sentence.

Weston’s fingers whitened around the folder.

So she would rather trust Harvey, a stranger, than the man she had once loved?

How worthless did she think I was?

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Harlan’s voice cracked the office hush, sharp as frost shattering a windowpane. “What’s wrong? Your face is so stormy. Who got under your skin now?”

Weston lifted his head, shoulders stiff beneath the weight of an unseen storm. At the doorway, Harlan lounged against the frame at a lazy angle, a half–smile playing cat–and–mouse across his lips.

Weston set the case file down with surgical precision, papers aligning like retreating soldiers. “Nothing,” he said, voice clipped enough to draw blood.

Harlan closed the distance, footsteps slow and deliberate. “Let me take a stab at it. Laura Wentworth riled you up again, didn’t she?”

Weston’s face froze into polite marble, the kind museums rope off so no one dares touch. Seeing that stonework, Harlan knew he’d hit the bull’s–eye.

By reputation, Weston carried himself like an ivory tower–courtly on the surface, frostbitten beneath. Outside his own blood, the world rarely registered.

And yet, the previous night, that same aloof lawyer had swung a fist at Sylas just to shield Laura. The sight still rattled Harlan’s expectations.

Harlan chuckled, brows lifting in mock alarm. “Uncle Weston, don’t tell me you’re about to trip headfirst over Laura.”

Weston’s brow knit. “You honestly think that’s possible?”

A sly grin slid across Harlan’s face. “Oh, really? Then you won’t mind if I decide to pursue Laura myself?”

Weston’s eyes went dark, almost feral. “Joke or not, she is off–limits to you.”

The raw possessiveness flaring in those eyes was impossible to miss. Harlan nearly laughed. How is that not evidence enough of him falling for Laura?

“Relax,” Harlan said, palms raised in surrender. “If I had ever wanted her, I’d have made my move long ago.”

Fact was, the woman he loved had already agreed to marry someone else. That truth still sat in his chest like a lodged bullet, impossible to dig out, refusing to let him breathe freely. His greatest regret? Missing every window, naming the feeling only when the hourglass was dust. By then, the door had slammed shut.

“Uncle Weston, if you keep dodging your own heart, one day you’ll wake up and realize the chance is gone. Trust me, regret tastes

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6: pm

Chapter 522 His Regrets

like ashes,” he said. Just like me, standing here with empty hands.

Weston let out a short scoff. “So you truly believe I’ve fallen for Laura?”

“Do you honestly believe you haven’t?” Harlan shot back, eyebrows arched.

Weston said nothing. The silence thickened, heavy as wet concrete.

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“If you felt nothing.” Harlan continued, “you wouldn’t have pummeled Sylas last night. That outburst was pure instinct, not the genteel mask you like to wear.”

With casual irreverence, Harlan lifted the old case file Weston had left on the desk, flipping it open as though thumbing through yesterday’s gossip.

“Heard you had this relic dragged out first thing this morning,” he said, tapping the dossier. “Since when do you lose sleep over other people’s sins?”

Weston pressed his lips together. “Did Laura ever mention Sylas Seymour to you before?”

Harlan gave a slow shake of the head. “No. Last night was the first time I’d ever heard of the man.”

He had learned only hours earlier that Weston had ordered the case reopened; only then did he grasp the buried rancor between Sylas and Laura.

“About last night, thank you,” Weston said quietly. “Had you not stepped in, she might have been hurt.”

“Laura’s my friend. I don’t need your gratitude,” Harlan replied. “But tell me, Uncle Weston, why thank me on her behalf? Do you think Laura is yours to claim, so you speak for her?”

The question landed like a slap. Weston blinked, momentarily at a loss for words.

“All right, I’m heading out. Uncle Weston, let me leave you with a warning. From where I stand, Laura seems to be just having a bit of fun with you. If you tumble head–first while she keeps her balance, the crash will hurt.”

Harlan pivoted on the polished wooden floor, the echo of his shoes cutting through the office like a judge’s gavel.

Weston’s lips pressed into a blade–thin line as he stared at the stack of case files, their once–crisp text dissolving into meaningless smudges.

Have I already fallen? I keep bending rules I once treated as gospel, all because of Laura. Does that mean I’m in love with her? Falling for her again after so many years apart… How insane is that?

Just as the office lights began to dim for the evening, Laura stopped Harvey halfway to the elevators with a gentle call of his name.

“Yesterday, I ran into Sylas Seymour.”

Harvey was shocked. “He’s out already?”

“Yes, he was released ahead of schedule; the police have him in detention for fifteen days right now. If he shows up and starts harassing you, call me at once,” she warned.

“Detained for fifteen days? Did he do anything to you?”