The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 578

**Military 578**

**Chapter 578: Jealous Over Nothing**

20:19 Fri, Nov 21

Julius didn’t respond immediately; instead, he fixed his gaze on Quinn, his head slightly tilted in contemplation. “Would you?” he asked, his tone laced with an unspoken challenge.

Quinn chuckled softly, a light sound that echoed her disbelief at the familiar pang of jealousy that seemed to resurface. “Jealous over nothing again, are we? My feelings for Harlan are nothing more than those of camaraderie, akin to how one feels for a younger brother. They pale in comparison to what I feel for you. And let’s not forget, we already have a marriage license, remember?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, “And if he still refuses to let go of you?”

“He’s not that kind of man,” she replied firmly. She recalled the day she and Julius had received their marriage certificate, and how Harlan had likely stood by, wrestling with his own emotions, trying to force himself to move on from her. “What’s more—”

Quinn hesitated for a moment, locking eyes with Julius, her expression turning serious. “If our relationship is truly solid, then nothing and no one can tear us apart. If it isn’t, then someone else would eventually come between us, Harlan or not. What truly matters is the bond we share.”

A glimmer of relief washed over Julius’ features, his eyes softening as he lifted her hand and brushed his lips gently across her knuckles. “I was being petty. No more baseless jealousy, and no more conflicts with Harlan.”

Quinn’s smile returned, warm and bright, illuminating the room. “Good.”

By the time Gavin and Harlan re-entered the room, Julius had dressed and was quietly preparing an apple for Quinn, slicing it with precision.

After recounting Harlan’s injuries to Quinn, Gavin concluded, “Nothing serious—no broken bones, just some bruises. A little ointment and some rest will do the trick.”

“Julius is in about the same shape. Could I trouble you to prepare ointment for both of them later, Dr. Huxley?” Quinn asked, her tone earnest.

“Of course,” Gavin replied without hesitation.

As the Whitethorn family’s physician, it was already Gavin’s duty to care for Julius’ wounds; whether he prepared medicine for one or two patients was a trivial matter.

Julius meticulously finished carving thin, crescent slices from the apple before presenting the fruit to Quinn with a quiet sense of pride.

Harlan cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Want me to take care of Joaquin Whitethorn for you?”

Quinn’s eyes widened in surprise, nearly dropping the apple from her grasp. “What did you just say?”

“You’re in the hospital because of him, right? You helped the Celosian police arrest Joaquin back then. Now that he’s out, he won’t leave you alone.”

From what Harlan had gathered, Joaquin was a man driven by revenge; anyone who had crossed him ended up suffering greatly. Quinn’s recent ordeal only reinforced this truth—daughter-in-law or not, she remained a target, and Joaquin would strike again if given the chance.

Quinn blinked, taken aback by the fierce sincerity that lay beneath Harlan’s bravado.

Without another word, Harlan strode out of the ward, Gavin matching his pace until they both disappeared beyond the door.

Silence enveloped the room once again, leaving only Quinn and Julius in the sterile space, the faint hum of medical machines providing a backdrop to their thoughts.

Julius lowered his head, his voice softening for her ears alone. “The Whitethorn family will settle its debts. As for what my father did, I’ll handle that. You just focus on healing.”

“We’ll handle it together,” Quinn asserted, her determination unwavering. “We’re husband and wife. Whatever comes our way, we face it side by side.”

A small smile broke through the tension on Julius’ face, softening the hard lines of his mouth. “All right.”

Yet, as drowsiness began to pull Quinn’s eyelids closed once more, that gentle curve at the corner of his lips faded, replaced by a grim resolve. He could not—would not—risk her life for any plan.

Outside the ward, Julius pulled a battered phone from his pocket—a relic that once belonged to his mother. He dialed the sole number stored within, his thumb steady despite the storm brewing in his chest.

Moments later, Joaquin’s voice oozed through the speaker, smooth and slippery like oil on black water. “What is it, my dear son?”

“Let’s meet,” Julius said, each word striking with the finality of a hammer on an anvil.