The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 611

Outside the curtain, the tall silhouette held its breath.

Laura bit her lip, convinced Weston would ignore her request as he usually did.

But then his footsteps clicked once, twice, and faded down the corridor. He had actually left the room.

Even the physician paused, brows lifting behind his mask. Mr. Windore actually obeyed?

The medical staff exchanged incredulous glances. Weston had actually obeyed the woman's soft command and stepped out of the ward.

More astonishing still, she had arrived under his personal escort. No one in the hospital could guess what bound the two of them together.

Yet whatever their relationship was, his ready submission made one truth impossible to ignore: in Weston's world, that woman mattered more than ordinary definitions.

Only after the examination ended did Weston reenter.

Laura's skin bloomed with bruises, violets, and storm-cloud grays across her back, shoulders, and limbs. No bones were broken, yet the muscles beneath had been ruthlessly battered.

"These are soft-tissue contusions," the doctor explained. "She'll need about two weeks of rest. Arms and calves will stay stiff—no strenuous activity, or the damage will deepen."

"Okay," Laura murmured, giving a small, accepting nod.

Weston scanned the freshly printed report, his brow furrowing tighter with every line. Back, abdomen, shoulders, arms, waist, calves—injuries everywhere. The sheer number eclipsed what he had imagined.

"Most of the bruises will fade within a few days," the doctor added quickly, noticing Weston's darkening expression.

Weston motioned to a bodyguard for the medication, then crouched, arms sliding beneath Laura as though to carry her out.

"Don't," she protested, shrinking from his arms. "Mr. Windore, where is Harvey right now? I need to see him."

She wouldn't relax until she saw him.

"Laura, I told you. I didn't bring you here to see him." Weston's face darkened.

"My injuries are assessed, medicines prescribed. Visiting Harvey won't hurt, will it?"

"Is that man really so important?" Weston asked, displeasure sharpening every syllable.

At moments like this, even a fool would know better than to provoke Weston.

"He saved my life. Tell me, Weston—does that sound unimportant to you?"

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify