hapter 198 Compensation Ends 

Marley’s complexion turned a ghostly white. She charged forward in a rush and clamped both hands around the sleeve of Julius’s suit jacket. “Julius, you can’t treat me like this! I sacrificed an eye for you–how can you simply cut ties as though none of it matters?” 

Julius stared at her with arctic detachment. “Your eye was never sacrificed for me. That night, you were merely cornered, too late to run. If you’d had any chance of escape, you would have taken it. Because of that injury, I’ve compensated you all these years–hasn’t that been enough?” 

Marley’s body quivered. She wanted to refute him, yet with so many relatives gathered, how could she possibly argue back? 

<Should I tell him the compensation was never enough? Should I insist he spend a lifetime repaying me?> 

“But… my feelings for you…” Her lips trembled as she forced the words out. 

Before she could finish, his tone cut like a blade. “Marley, I have never harbored a single shred of affection for you. Everything I gave you was merely repayment for your injured eye. Now, that debt is settled.” 

With that, he pried her fingers free and walked off with Quinn at his side. 

Marley stumbled and nearly collapsed onto the marble floor. 

All around, people stared–especially the Bridger cousins, who once gazed at her with envy. Now their looks brimmed with pity, ridicule, or disdain. 

Ever since Julius ruined one of her eyes, her status in the Bridger family had soared, and everyone scrambled to flatter her. 

Overnight, she had risen from hell to heaven. 

And now–was she really plummeting from heaven back into that same hell? 

“Marley, why are you standing there? Go after him! If you beg Mr. Whitethorn properly, he’ll surely take back what he said!” Melvin urged in a sharp whisper. 

“Isn’t this embarrassment enough?” Murren slammed his cane against the floor, the crack echoing through the lobby. 

He then turned to Lana. “I’ve heard about Sidonie’s incident. The Bridger family has done all it can. Your job now isn’t to pin responsibility on Quinn–it’s to obtain forgiveness from the family of the girl who was 

burned alive.” 

Lana’s face darkened; Melvin didn’t dare utter a word. 

Marley stood rigid, face ashen, hardly hearing Murren’s rebuke. 

Her fists clenched so hard her nails bit deep into her palms. 

She had already lost an eye and paid so dear a price–how could she be shoved back into that same nightmare? 

Quinn and Julius walked out of the Bridger Group. Once seated in the car, Quinn found her gaze drifting toward him again and again. 

1/2 

“What is it? Why do you keep looking at me like that?” he asked. 

“The things you said back there were you serious? You won’t regret them later?” 

“Which part? That if you can use me, I’d welcome it?” he countered. 

“Not that. I know you said it to give me face in front of everyone,” she said quickly. 

Julius’s lips curved faintly. “It wasn’t just for show. I meant it. If you ever wish to use me, do it–I’ll be glad. It means I’m useful to you, doesn’t it?” 

His words sounded almost like a tender confession. 

Yet, Quinn felt a sting behind her eyes. 

The deeper she understood him, the more clearly she saw a twist in his view of emotions. 

That twist had to be the shadow of his childhood. 

“Don’t be glad there’s no reason to be.” Quinn’s tone was soft yet firm. “True feelings should never revolve around utility. I like you whether you’re useful to me or not, because liking someone isn’t measured by ‘useful‘ or ‘useless.” 

Julius’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on the steering wheel. 

“But since I was little, everyone told me I had to be useful to be allowed to exist,” he murmured. 

Because he’d been useless, he hadn’t been able to keep his mother from ending her life; afterward, his father had hated him. 

Later, precisely because he was useful, his grandfather took him in and groomed him to inherit the vast Whitethorn empire. 

His world had always been divided into two camps–useful and useless. Now she was saying that even if he were useless, she would still like him. 

“You’re right–being useful is fine, but love shouldn’t depend on it,” Quinn said gently. “Feeling happy just because you’re being used is wrong. If the affection you receive is rooted in utility, then the day you’re no longer useful, won’t you be discarded? How long could such love last?” 

2/2