The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 404

Chapter 404 Intertwined Fates

Chapter 404 Intertwined Fates

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“How do you know that?” Quinn’s gaze widened, surprise chasing away the soot on her cheeks.

He grinned even as death–colored shadows crept across his skin. Sweat matted his hair, ash clung to his clothes, yet the smile refused to leave.

“Of course. It was you. It has always been you,” he breathed.

The revelation struck him like a silent explosion. The savior from the ruins of his childhood was standing right here.

Years before either of them knew the other’s name, their paths had already crossed.

He had spent all these years searching for her, loving her, and it had always been the

woman.

Every indelible mark on his life, each scar and every hope, carried her signature.

very same

Outside the blazing banquet hall, Everett planted himself near the exit. Firefighters rushed in and out, shepherding survivor after survivor through curtains of blackened air.

And yet, no matter how many victims emerged, Leander was not among them.

A knot tightened in Everett’s chest, rough and immediate.

That kid had better not die. If he does, what will I tell Mother? Leander is the only thing keeping her fractured mind tethered.

And he could not shake the echo of Leander’s final words, spoken just before the young man vanished into the fire.

They often remarked that whenever Leander entered a room, it felt as though Everett’s youthful self had stepped straight out of a forgotten photograph.

Decisive, razor–bright, able to connect invisible dots in a single breath, yet firmly anchored to principled boundaries–everything about the boy fit Everett’s taste to perfection.

More than once, Everett caught himself wondering whether, had life granted him a child of his own, that son might have looked and moved exactly like this.

In the beginning, pressed by family politics, he had stamped the boy with the label of “illegitimate” simply to satisfy Margaret’s need for an heir.

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Yet the longer he watched Leander grow, the stronger his admiration became. He pulled the young man into Fane Group, cleared a path, and quietly urged him to climb.

Had Quinn’s search for her brother never erupted, Everett might have arranged for Leander to marry a woman carrying pure Fane blood and, in time, steer the family empire himself.

But destiny would soon rename the boy Rowan Bridger, severing every thread that bound him to the Fanes.

And so the child who mirrored my own reflection will never truly belong to us, Everett realized, a dull regret spreading through his chest.

Out on the smoke–dusted forecourt, red strobes danced across twisted steel as Harbs slipped past the cordon and raised a hand in greeting. “Mr. Fane, I never expected to meet you here,” Harbs said, voice steady while the lights flickered across his suit.

His company had business in Celosia, too, and some of that business collaborated with the Fanes, which was why he knew Everett as well.

“Harbs. Small world,” Everett answered, tugging his dark coat tighter against the night air.

“Heading out? We could leave together,” Harbs offered, jerking a thumb toward the line of waiting cars.

“No. Leander is still inside. I’ll stay until he walks out,” Everett said, tone firm beneath the distant wail of sirens.

Harbs blinked, genuinely surprised. “Your son hasn’t come out yet?”

Everett pressed his lips, a single noncommittal hum escaping him.

“The rescue crews just moved in deeper. I’m sure the kid will be fine,” Harbs added, trying to coat the words with reassurance.

A spark of memory lit his eyes. “Seeing you reminds me–your family’s been searching for a particular necklace, right? I spotted one today that looks remarkably similar.”

The necklace on Quinn’s throat had nagged at him with déjà–vu. Only now, facing Everett, did the forgotten photograph snap into focus; he had once promised to report any sighting.

He didn’t expect to really find an identical necklace.

“What did you just say?” Everett’s eyes flew open, the normally impenetrable gray irises flashing in the emergency lights. “You’ve seen that necklace?”

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“I can’t be certain, but the design is nearly the same as the photo you showed me,” Harbs explained, careful not to overpromise.

Everett thrust his phone between them, the image already pulled up. Though it was only a scanned, time–worn photograph, the contours of the necklace stood out in crisp relief.

“Is it this necklace?” Everett whispered, the question rasping out as though each word had to claw its way up his throat.

Harbs leaned closer, squinting beneath the lamp’s amber glow. “The design is almost identical -at least to my eye it is the same,” he said, measuring every curve and stone. “The woman who wore it today told me it had belonged to her mother.”

Everett jolted as if struck by a hidden current. “Her… Her mother?” The word carried the weight of decades of unanswered prayers.

If his younger sister were still alive, she would have children by now. By Everett’s reckoning, any son or daughter of hers would long since have grown into adulthood.

“The person–the one wearing the necklace–who is she?” The inquiry wobbled out of him, hope and fear knotted around every syllable.

Have I finally found my sister?

“Quinn,” Harbs replied. “Her name is Quinn Bridger.”