Chapter 369 Scars Remain

    Chapter 369 Scars Remain

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    That vanished girl was the ache of Everett’s lifetime, a family secret spoken only in hushed fragments behind closed doors.

    Decades rolled past. Everyone told him to let go. He had been a child himself, they said. The me was never his to bear.

    Yet how could he release it? In his mind, Yara remained permanently three, herughter bright as morning bells.

    Their mother, crushed by grief, had slipped into a twilight of confusion that deepened every year. Everett searched every orphanage, every city archive, but found nothing–only dust and dead ends.

    Some whispered a three–year–old could not have survived those hard times, that she must have died long ago.

    He carried that possibility like a chain. Remaining single, fathering no children— those were acts of silent penance for the life he failed to protect.

    Even the question of the child’s true blood–Rowan Bridger or Leander Fane- mattered little to him. If iming Leander as his own could ease Margaret’s suffering, then Leander he would remain, heritage be damned.

    It didn’t matter even if he had no blood connection to the Fanes.

    Han guided the sleek sedan through Jexburgh’s quiet after–midnight streets and reached Laura’s ce.

    Quinn unfastened her seat belt, turning to Han with a tired smile. “Thank you for everything tonight. Get some rest when you’re home, okay?”

    Han dipped his head, dark hair falling over his brow. “All right. But Quinnie, please consider what I said today. You don’t have to answer now. Take all the time you need until you’re absolutely certain.”

    The car disappeared down the avenue, its taillights shrinking into the city’s glow. Laura slipped her arm through Quinn’s and leaned closer, amusement twinkling

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    Chapter 369 Scars Remain

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    behind her sses. “So,” she murmured, “what exactly does Han want you to ‘consider?”

    Heat climbed into Quinn’s cheeks. “N–Nothing important,” she stammered, eyes skittering away.

    Laura grinned. “Let me guess—he asked you to give the two of you a chance.”

    Quinn could only sigh; her friend’s intuition was annoyingly precise.

    Laura, sharp as ever, needed no words. One look at Quinn’s face confirmed her guess beyond doubt.

    Laura tapped Quinn’s arm. “Seriously, why not? Han isn’t so bad. You’ve known him forever. The so–called Jexburgh’s tyrant bullies everybody else, yet in front of you, he turns into the gentlest kid brother.”

    Quinn shook her head. “I’ve just ended things with Julius. A new romance isn’t on my agenda. Right now, reuniting with my brother is all I care about.”

    “Speaking of your brother, didn’t you run into him at the restaurant? Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” Laura asked curiously.

    She and Han had only learned of the encounter when the two returned to the lounge; Quinn’s long absence had been exined by that chance meeting with Leander.

    Quinn exhaled, shoulders drooping. “I mentioned doing a DNA test,” she said quietly. “He replied that, even if the results proved he’s my brother, he would still choose to remain Leander Fane.”

    Laura’s brows cinched beneath the softmp glow. “Could it really be the Fane family’s fortune? That makes absolutely no sense,” she whispered to herself.

    She had known Rowan Bridger for years. The man she remembered cared little for money; if he had, he never would have buried himself in barracks and war zones for so long.

    Even amnesia could not scrape away a person’s bedrock. Yet he now knew the truth

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    of who he was and still clung to the name Leander Fane. It didn’t make sense.

    “I’m going to find out exactly what’s going on,” Quinn said, voice steady but eyes fierce. The moment her brother returned to Jexburgh, she vowed she would never lose him again. Whatever tethered him to the name Leander Fane, she would cut it.

    “Go wash up, then try to sleep early,” Laura reminded.

    Quinn nodded. The day had hurled too many shocks at her, and exhaustion pooled behind her eyelids like twilight flooding a room.

    “I’ll rinse off now,” Quinn murmured, scooping fresh clothes into her arms before disappearing into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind a curtain of steam.

    Left alone, Laura gathered stray cushions, ready to straighten the apartment. The doorbell abruptly split the quiet, its shrill note slicing the air.

    iWho /iion /iiearth /iidrops /iiby /iiat /iithis /iihour/i? iDid /iiHan /iiforget /iisomething /iiand /iicircle /iiback/ii? /i

    She swung the door open–and her eyes vaulted wide as if yanked by invisible strings.

    It was Weston.

    What is ihe /iidoing /iihere/ii? /iMemories of that night–his relentless pace, her own surrendered restraint–shed hot across her skin, and her knees threatened to

    buckle.

    “What are you doing here?” she demanded, re sharp enough to draw blood.

    Without invitation, Weston hooked a hand behind her neck, stepped inside, and pressed her against the foyer wall in one liquid movement. “Why didn’t youe looking for me?”

    “Why would I? I had no business with you,” she shot back, rolling her eyes even as her pulse stumbled,

    His lips hovered by her ear, breath cool and deliberate. “Was I so bad that night,

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    Chapter 369 Scars Remain

    Laura, you felt nothing worth missing?”

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    “Your technique was hardly impressive, so no, I don’t miss it at all,” she said, every syble a clean, decisive cut.