The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 533

r 533 Not Normal

Harlan listened for a moment, color draining from his face. “Got it. Send me the location. I’m on my way.”

Quinn set down her fork. “What happened?” she asked, brows knitting.

Nothing serious, Harlan replied. “My uncle got into a scuffle. I’ll smooth it over.”

Quinn’s gaze slid to Laura, curiosity flickering behind her calm expression. She knew the “uncle” was Weston, and lately, Laura and Weston had been closer than moon and tide. Yet Laura kept eating, unbothered, as though Harlan were discussing tomorrow’s weather.

Harlan pushed back his chair, napkin dropping onto the tablecloth as he rose.

Quinn dipped her head once in silent assent.

Laura waved a casual hand. “Safe travels,” she said with a teasing lilt. Harlan caught her wrist before it fell, his grip gentle yet unmistakably firm.

“You’re coming with me.”

The fork in Laura’s fingers froze mid–air, sauce dripping back into the platter. A sharp frown cut across her face. “What? Weston got into a fight, and I’m supposed to help?”

“Because it concerns you. You might be of help,” he muttered near her ear. Without waiting for agreement, he steered her toward the corridor, half carrying, half herding her past the velvet curtains of the lounge.

“Hey, I haven’t even finished my dinner!” she protested, stumbling to keep up. “Weston and I sail on different ships. Whatever storm he’s in has nothing to do with me. Let me go! Okay, fine, I’m coming, all right?”

The moment the pair disappeared into the hallway, the private lounge fell into a sudden hush, as though someone had turned down the volume on the world.

Quinn toyed with the rim of her wineglass, unease clouding her eyes. “Weston isn’t in serious trouble, is he?” she asked. In Jexburgh, there were few who could push him that far, fewer still who could drag Harlan in.

Julius leaned back, calm as a man checking the weather. “Even if it’s serious, the Windore and Ingram families have the muscle to handle it. If they can’t, then nobody walking into that mess will.”

Quinn considered that, then nodded, tension easing a little from her shoulders.

Still, worry resurfaced. “But is it safe dragging Laura along?”

“Harlan said she might help, so I’ll trust his instinct,” Julius replied. “If you’re uneasy, I can have someone shadow them.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Quinn said. Years of working with Harlan had taught her that beneath his hot–blooded façade lay careful judgment.

She knew that if things ever ran out of his control, he would call in heavier artillery instead of swinging first and thinking later.

In the parking lot, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead while Harlan hustled Laura into his SUV.

She shook the arm he’d yanked, soreness blooming. “Tell me, what on earth about Weston’s crisis has anything to do with me?”

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Harlan fired up the engine. “He hauled a whole crowd to his villa today. Now he’s interrogating them, trying to find out who told the servants, back after you two split, to bar you from seeing him.”

Laura’s mind stuttered. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

“Uncle Weston wants the culprit who stopped you from seeing him,” Harlan said, glancing sideways at her. “So after breaking up, you actually went looking for him?”

A swirl of conflicting emotions rose in Laura–surprise, embarrassment, a pinch of anger–all crowding for space in her chest.

Was it because of what I told him the other day? If he’s digging up the past now, does that mean he never knew I stood outside his gates back then?

Harlan’s voice cut through the cabin. “Earth to Laura! What’s spinning in that head of yours?”

She let out a short, sardonic laugh. “I just think it’s hilarious. Your uncle is stirring up a hornet’s nest over a trivial, years–old incident, and he even drags you into it.”

“If his brain were firing normally, he wouldn’t,” Harlan answered, eyes fixed on the road.

“So you’re saying he’s not normal now?”

“Anytime something involves you, he goes a little off–kilter.”

Laura gave a light laugh, shaking her head. “Come on, Harlan, you can’t honestly believe your uncle likes me.”

“Why not? Doesn’t he?” Harlan shot back.

“Back when we dated, he certainly didn’t,” she retorted. “Years later, suddenly he does? What’s he fallen for? My love of profit? Besides, we’ve only crossed paths for a handful of days.”

Harlan had wondered the same. Around Weston swirled women whose faces and resumes outshone Laura’s.

If his uncle preferred powerhouse executives, he had no shortage of options. Perhaps the answer lay in simple history–Laura had been the first woman Weston ever publicly claimed as his own.

After she vanished from his life, Weston shut the door on romance entirely. entirely. Nights passed, seasons changed, yet no other name crossed his lips, no new number ever lit up his phone. Maybe a first love carries a gravity all its own, a pull the heart never really escapes.

While their quiet conversation drifted through the car’s leather interior, the driver swung through ornate iron gates and rolled to a halt before Weston’s villa.

Laura stared at the towering mahogany doors, her tongue suddenly thick, her breath lodged somewhere high in her chest. In that instant, an old memory flared. She saw her younger self shifting awkwardly on these very steps, unsure, uninvited.

Back then, the doors had stayed shut. The security guard had told her to leave, and humiliation had burned hot behind her eyes.

Tonight, by contrast, she walked in at Harlan’s side, her heels clicking in confident answer to her former shame.

She followed Harlan across the marble foyer, but the moment her gaze landed on Weston, she froze.

All the rumors and headlines had never prepared her for this living, breathing man. Weston lounged on a dove–gray couch, one arm draped over the backrest, a cigarette balanced between long fingers, its ember winking in the low light. Around him, his

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bodyguards forced a knot of trembling men onto their knees. Knuckles dug into shoulders. Heads bowed. The room felt less like a living room than a private tribunal.