The Rejected Principessa Returns novel Chapter 92

Chapter 8

My eyes snapped open to see a tall, straight-backed figure already shielding me, his hand firmly gripping my father’s raised wrist.

The grip was immensely strong. My father’s face paled with pain.

“How dare you! Who do you think you are, laying hands on me!?”

My mother, terrified, quickly pulled Isabella behind her.

I looked up dazedly. Against the backlight, I could only make out the cold glint of metal on his epaulets.

A clear, authoritative voice rang out.

“I’d like to ask my esteemed father-in-law, what gives you the right to raise your hand against my wife on my doorstep?”

When Julian Shaw stood at the courtyard gate, I almost didn’t recognize him.

Gone was the despondent figure in the wheelchair. He stood tall and straight in an impeccably tailored forest-green dress uniform.

The silver-gray mask that usually hid his features was gone, revealing deep-set eyes and a sharply defined

jawline.

He stood perfectly still, yet a quiet intensity rolled off him, the kind that came from a lifetime of giving orders

and having them followed without question. My father stared, his eyes locked on the general’s stars on

Julian’s epaulets, his face gradually turning ashen.

“You… you’re General Shaw from U.S. Southern Command?”

The sound of car engines faded away at the end of the alley, and peace finally returned to the house.

Only Julian and I remained, standing face to face. The air thickened between us, charged with all the things. left unsaid.Learning he was a General from SOUTHCOM, I found myself holding my breath without realizing

He noticed my tension and slowed his speech, his tone explanatory.

“I received intelligence suggesting someone within the Capitol Hill command might be leaking secrets. The

matter was too sensitive; I had to investigate personally.”

“To avoid alerting the target, I went undercover as a low-ranking, disabled officer. Attending the banquet that day was meant to find a pretext to get close to the target. I never expected you to draw my name.”

He changed the subject, a warm smile touching his lips. “But that night wasn’t the first time we met.”

“Five years ago, near the border, a ‘merchant’ who’d been shot collapsed in the marshlands. You dragged him to safety, bandaged his wound, and left him half a canteen of water and an MRE.”

His gaze held a hint of anticipation. “Do you remember?”

I thought carefully but ultimately shook my head. “No, I don’t.”

The curve of Julian’s smile froze. He was momentarily speechless.

The tips of my ears felt warm.

Yet, the atmosphere felt inexplicably lighter than before.

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