The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 598

**TITLE: Military 598**
**Chapter 598: Sealed Room**

The waiter stood frozen in place, his expression a mask of confusion as his eyes flitted nervously around the room. “I… I don’t know what you mean. I’m not sure who you’re talking about,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Inside, a storm of anxiety brewed within him. He had no inkling of who Laura was, but the thought of any news regarding Weston escaping the confines of the restaurant sent chills down his spine. If word got out about whatever calamity had befallen Weston, the establishment would face ruin, and he—a mere server—would be no exception. The repercussions of Weston’s wrath could easily fall upon him, and he felt a cold sweat forming at the nape of his neck.

Laura, however, was not one to wait for permission. With determination fueling her every step, she sprinted toward the barricaded lounge, the lie that flickered across the waiter’s face serving as her only confirmation that Weston was indeed inside.

As she reached the threshold, a pair of bodyguards loomed before her, their imposing figures resembling granite walls, unyielding and steadfast.

“Ms. Wentworth, Mr. Windore has ordered that no one be admitted,” one of them stated, his hand firmly planted against the door, creating an insurmountable barrier.

The man guarding the entrance was one of Weston’s personal bodyguards, and he recognized Laura instantly.

“Are you just going to stand out here?” she demanded, frustration lacing her words. “Did you at least call a doctor?”

A gnawing fear gripped her heart. Am I already too late? Had Weston consumed that tainted liquor?

“It’s beyond our authority, ma’am. We follow Mr. Windore’s instructions—nothing more,” the guard replied, his tone devoid of empathy.

Silence enveloped Laura as she processed his words. If Weston still had the presence of mind to post guards and clear the room, then even under the influence of whatever had been slipped into his drink, he must have a plan in motion.

In that moment, she recognized that her misplaced panic had no place here.

Just as she turned to retreat down the corridor, a woman’s piercing scream shattered the tense silence of the lounge, sending a jolt of dread spiraling through her stomach. Laura froze mid-step, the heel of her stiletto slipping across the polished marble floor as an overwhelming sense of urgency took hold. Before she could second-guess her instincts, she lunged forward, desperate to break through.

But the bodyguard stepped in front of her, an immovable barrier. “Ms. Wentworth, Mr. Windore’s orders are absolute. No one goes in,” he insisted, his voice firm and unyielding.

“But—” Laura’s protest barely had time to form before another voice, low and unmistakably authoritative, rolled out from the lounge like distant thunder.

“Let her in!”

The command was unmistakably Weston’s. Recognition hit her like a punch to the chest just as the guard swung the heavy door open.

On the table before him lay an open bottle of wine, untouched. From his unwavering stance and razor-sharp gaze, it was clear he hadn’t taken a single sip. A wave of relief washed over Laura, loosening the tight grip of anxiety in her chest.

She turned, ready to slip away while she still could, when Weston’s voice sliced through the room like a knife. “What’s this? You arrive, say nothing, and think you can walk away?”

The sound of footsteps echoed in the room—unhurried, deliberate.

Step after step, the measured thud of his shoes drew nearer. Is it Weston approaching?

To her surprise, a tight, inexplicable flutter of nerves rose in her chest.

Suddenly, a breath of cool air seemed to envelop her shoulders, a presence pressing in from behind. His eyes darkened, swirling like ink released into water.

“Didn’t we agree to go our separate ways? So why, Laura Wentworth, have you come running into my path again?”