The Year I Stopped Being His novel Chapter 358

Quinn froze.

She looked into his eyes. In those cold, amber eyes, there was only one thing present—it wasn't suspicion, it wasn't a guess. It was absolute certainty.

It was the certainty of someone who had already interrogated her a thousand times in his head, finally waiting for the day to lay down the verdict.

He... suspected her?

He had suspected her for five years?

Suspected her of being the mole who stole the strain, suspected her of colluding with David Lancaster, suspected her of wanting Sloane dead!

Ridiculous, it was utterly insane!

Even if she had wanted Sloane dead, it was only a fleeting, impulsive thought in that split second standing by the bed; it was simply a desperate retaliation after being pushed past her breaking point!

But in his mind... she was already a monster capable of any atrocity!

"What... what are you talking about?"

Her voice finally began to tremble. Beyond the grievance and the anger, there was the suffocating disbelief of someone who had just been stabbed in the chest by the person they trusted most.

"Garrison, you... you actually suspect me of doing something like that?!"

"Even if I wanted to marry you—yes, I admit it, I want to marry you. I've wanted to for over twenty years! Ever since I was thirteen, I wanted to be your wife! But I know better than anyone how much you sacrificed for Project Vitas!"

"During all those days and nights you spent researching the microbe in the lab, who was by your side? When you stayed awake for three days straight staring at petri dishes, who quietly reheated your meals over and over, placing them right next to you?"

"It was me, Garrison! It was me!"

"You are not to breathe a single word about Sloane to anyone. When the time is right, I will explain it myself."

"And furthermore... you are never to step foot in my hospital again!"

*

After returning home, Quinn fell violently ill.

It wasn't a sudden, raging fever, but something much heavier and more suffocating—as if something she had been propping up inside herself for years had finally shattered under the weight of that slap. The shards sank into her bloodstream, radiating agony wherever they traveled.

She lay in bed, refusing to speak, refusing to cry, and barely eating a bite.

The curtains were drawn tightly shut, blurring the lines between day and night in her room.