The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 534

hapter 534 Madness At The Villa

Chapter 534 Madness At The Villa

Laura stood frozen, her eyes anchored i

on Weston standing a short distance away.

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He wore an obsidian suit tailored within an inch of perfection. His dark hair lay slicked back, every strand obeying some unspoken command.

The face remained the one she remembered–polite features, manners carved from old ivory.

Yet the aura had warped. The scholarly restraint that once wrapped him had curdled into something wild and storm–lit, a swagger threaded with gloom.

It was as though the same soul now housed an unruly twin, and Laura could not reconcile the split.

She had never seen Weston look like this.

“Weston, please–we truly had no idea about any of this!”

“Yes, it’s been years. How could we possibly remember such a trivial incident?”

“I swear I never knew the servants turned Laura away when she tried to see you. Let us go!”

Only then did Laura recognize the men forced to their knees–they were the very companions who had once circled Weston like moths around a lamp.

But they’re his friends! Why would he treat them like this?

“Well, well,” Harlan muttered from the sidelines, his voice tasting of mischief. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen my dear uncle drop the mask. Look at him–finally done pretending.”

“Pretending?” Laura echoed, baffled.

Harlan shrugged, playful yet bitter. “My uncle’s greatest talent has always been acting the model student, currying favor with every adult in sight while plotting in the dark.”

Growing up, Harlan had lost count of the schemes that ended with blame shoved onto his shoulders while Weston strolled away spotless. Revenge, he believed, was a dish worth waiting

ten years to serve.

Harlan leaned so close that Laura felt his breath brush her ear. “Trust me, Uncle Weston is a certified, grade–A snake in the grass. Don’t let the gentleman routine fool you.”

Laura’s head throbbed. Whether Weston was a snake or not had nothing to do with her. She

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Chapter 534 Madness At The Villa

had never intended to entangle herself with him again.

Just then, Weston’s gaze snapped toward them, a shadow sliding across his eyes. He straightened, then began to stride over, each step as precise as a metronome.

“What are you two doing here?” Weston asked, his tone glacial.

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“Gus called me,” Harlan said. “He said you were tearing the villa apart and feared something might go wrong, so he begged me to check on you.”

Gus Garner served under Weston, and now that there was trouble, his first instinct was to call

Harlan.

Weston’s eyes flicked to Laura. “Then why bring her?”

“She happened to be having dinner with me when the call came,” Harlan replied. “She was curious, so I brought her along.”

Laura nearly rolled her eyes. Curious? Hardly.

She had been dragged out of the lounge by Harlan before she could protest.

Weston turned to her. “Now that you’ve seen the spectacle, anything you’d like to say?”

Say? Say what?

Laura blinked, lashes flickering like startled moths. For a long second, she found no words at all, only the sharp certainty that Weston radiated danger the way a storm cloud radiates lightning. She felt her pulse hammer a single order against her ribs–run.

“Since you’re clearly handling something important, Mr. Windore… I’ll just be on my way.” The sentence squeezed past her clenched throat, brittle enough to snap in two.

She pivoted to leave. Weston’s hand shot out, fingers locking around her wrist with surgical precision. “Not so fast,” he murmured, voice calm but immovable. “This matter involves you. Stay.”

“But I-” The protest fractured under the weight of his grip.

He all but dragged her across the room, pressing her down onto the leather couch with a silent, uncompromising palm.

“Those people,” Weston said, tilting his head toward the kneeling crowd, “were inside the villa the day you came looking for me.”

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Chapter 534 Madness At The Villa

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Laura’s gaze swept over the group, narrowing as though she were fine–tuning the focus on an old camera.

Back then, his polished friends had greeted her with the airy contempt city sophisticates reserve for country strays.

Now, those same peacocks were forced to their knees, spines bowed beneath unseen weight.

For the first time, she stood higher, looking down at them exactly as they once looked down on her.

The reversal felt surreal, as if the scriptwriter had saved the twist for the final reel.

Shock flared in their eyes–wide, disbelieving–when they finally recognized the woman towering above them.

“You… You’re really Laura Wentworth?” one of them stammered.

“Didn’t you and Weston break up ages ago? How are you even here?” another demanded, voice cracking.

“You must have poisoned his ear! Is that why he’s treating us like this?” a third accused, panic thinning each syllable.

“Yes, I’m Laura Wentworth, and yes, Weston and I ended things long ago. As for why I’m here —perhaps one of you should explain why the staff slammed the gate in my face the last time I came looking for him.”

She had arrived tonight clueless about the details.

But fragments of conversation had drifted past like torn headlines, enough for her to assemble the story’s outline.

“You let Weston treat us like this over something so trivial? Laura, must you be this petty?” someone snarled, cheeks burning red.

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