Chapter 335 Till Death Promise
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For an instant, Quinn felt the tears scorch her cheeks, heat searing straight to her heart. Cool logic urged her to pull her hand away, to voice a sharper, cleaner rejection.
In the end, her voice came out hushed, almost fragile. “Julius, I honestly don’t know if shredded trust can
ever be rebuilt.”
Trust, she knew, shattered in seconds, yet demanded an eternity of delicate work to piece together again.
“I’ll wait,” Julius said, breath hitching with hope. “I’ll wait until the day you choose to trust me again.”
At least this time she hadn’t slapped his hand away. That alone proved there was still room for him inside her guarded heart.
Her eyes lifted, wary. “And if that day never comes?”
“Then I’ll keep waiting–through gray hair, through the last breath I draw.”
Quinn lowered her gaze; the promise landed with the weight of a boulder on her chest.
Wait until old, wait until death–how many souls on this earth could truly honor such words?
After all, their entire romance spanned mere months. Can feelings so new dive that deep?
Mercifully, Julius let the heavy topic drift away. “Tonight… will you hold my hand the whole time? I don’t want to wake and see you sleeping on the couch again.”
“Uh–okay. I won’t move to the couch tonight,” she promised.
Even so, when darkness finally pooled across the room, an awkward heat crawled beneath Quinn’s skin. They were no longer lovers, yet the ritual of falling asleep hand–in–hand lingered like a stubborn ghost.
It’s repayment, that’s all–just repaying a debt.
Perched on the mattress, Julius watched her hovering by the edge. “Are you not sleeping?” he asked, brows lifting.
“I am.” She drew a full breath, climbed in beside him, and deliberately laced her fingers through his.
Sooner or later she would have to do so; better to get it over with now.
The tiny motion sent a tremor through Julius; his throat bobbed, amazed that a single touch could set his blood surging.
Quinn flicked off the lamp and shut her eyes, yet sleep refused to claim her.
In the hush, every sense sharpened. She felt his palm against hers–the texture of skin, the quiet warmth, the almost imperceptible twitches of his fingertips.
“Quinn, are you asleep?” Julius whispered into the darkness.
She stayed silent, choosing to let him believe she had drifted off.
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17:46 Fri, 22 Aug.
Chapter 335 Till Death Promise
+10 Free Coins
“You have no idea how much I regret,” he murmured, voice half confession, half self–mockery. “I hate- man I used to be–the man who felt neither sympathy nor mercy. In the Whitethorn clan, goodness. weakness. To hold power, you learn to use any weapon. But I want to be better. Had I been decent back then, your brother would not have died for nothing. And maybe–you wouldn’t have left me. If I’d met you as a child, would you have shown me how to choose the right path?”
His voice grew softer and softer until the words were no more than a sigh drifting into the dim room.
With Quinn’s fingers threaded through his, a fragile peace settled over Julius. For a moment, he believed he could keep living in this brutal world.
Only after a long while did Quinn lift her lashes. Julius lay beside her, already asleep, and something tangled–fear, relief, determination–flared briefly in her eyes before sinking back into stillness.
The next two days slipped by in a blur.
Quinn spent the hours poring over the documents Julius had compiled on Leander and the wealthy Fanc family. When she wasn’t doing that, she was calling Laura to let her know she was safe.
“So the moment the DNA report lands, you’ll finally know if Leander Fane is Rowan or just a stranger wearing his face,” Laura said, her concern leaking through the static.
“Yes,” Quinn answered.
“But if he does turn out to be your brother and still refuses to leave the Fane family or return to Azania, what then?” Laura pressed.
“Even if amnesia has stolen every memory, I’ll help him find each missing piece. Once he remembers who he is, he will come home with me. He has to. He’s my brother.”
Her brother had once been the kind of man who would sacrifice his life to shield their country, a devotion carved into the marrow of his bones.
Montague and Arlene had carried the same fierce fire, and Quinn believed that flame could never be extinguished. It was the kind of steadfast conviction etched so deep it would outlast memory itself.
