Chapter 439 Childhood Treasures


    Everett closed the cases gently. “Your grandmother bought these for your mother. With her gone, they rightfully belong to you.”


    Quinn shook her head. “No, Uncle Everett. The clothes, perhaps, but these jewels are far too extravagant. I can’t ept them.”


    Everett offered a rueful smile. “Quinn, to your grandmother and me, nothing is more precious than you and Rowan. She had only two children, your mother and me. In my case, I do not intend <i>to </i>get married, nor do I ever want to have kids. As such, everything that the Fane family has will one day be passed down to the two of you.”


    Quinn opened her mouth, searching for fresh protest. “But-”


    Everett lifted a calming hand. “All right. Leave them here for now if that feels easier. Whenever you wish to wear a piece, simplye and take it.”


    Unable to argue further, Quinn nodded, a shy gratitude flickering in her eyes.


    Just as she was about to return to the hotel, Everett nced at her. “By the way, you’ve been in Celosia for days now. How are things between you and Julius?”


    “He’s not ready to say yes to starting over,” Quinn said, her voice gentle yet unwavering. “Still, he hasn’t closed the door on us. So I’m keeping at it, inch by inch, until the answer turns into a yes.”


    “Quinn, you’re the pride of the Fane family,” Everett dered, his tone half–pampering and halfmanding. “If Julius won’te to his senses, I’ll line up a dozen men who are more than worthy of you–men who would cherish you properly.”


    Quinn let out a small, unhurriedugh. “But even if the world is full of good men, my heart only beats for Julius, Uncle Everett.”


    Having spoken her piece, Quinn offered a polite nod–a quiet farewell that needed no words- then pivoted on her heel and strode out of the house, the hem of her coat brushing the doorway like a final period.


    Everett released a weary sigh, the kind that fluttered the documents on his desk. <i>That </i><i>girl </i><i>isn’t </i><i>budging</i>. <i>I </i><i>guess </i>it’s <i>Julius </i><i>Whitethorn </i><i>or </i><i>no </i><i>one </i><i>at </i><i>all</i><i>, </i><i>huh</i><i>?. </i><i>This </i><i>niece </i><i>of </i><i>mine </i><i>is </i><i>just </i><i>as </i><i>stubborn </i><i>as </i><i>her </i><i>mother </i>was. <i>Very </i><i>well</i>. <i>Julius </i><i>had </i><i>better </i><i>treasure </i><i>Quinn</i><i>, </i>or <i>I’ll </i><i>make </i><i>sure </i><i>he </i><i>learns </i><i>how </i><i>ruthless </i><i>the </i><i>Fane </i><i>family </i><i>can </i><i>be</i>!


    When Quinn returned to the hotel suite, she found Julius sprawled across the couch, eyes


    closed, the steady rhythm of a light nap softening the sharp lines of his face.


    She lifted a curious brow. Julius had battled insomnia for weeks; a full night’s rest was <b>a </b>miracle, let alone an afternoon doze.


    Yet there he was<b>, </b>sleeping–however lightly–a sight as startling as snow in midsummer. <fn0f9e> Content originallyes from f?ndnovel</fn0f9e>


    <i>Could </i><i>this </i><i>mean </i><i>his </i><i>sleepless </i><i>nights </i><i>are </i><i>finally </i><i>loosening </i><i>their </i><i>grip</i><i>? </i>


    The notion coaxed a smile onto her lips, and she moved closer, footsteps hushed against the carpet as though afraid to wake the miracle.


    But the next heartbeat stole that smile away.


    He was anything but peaceful. A sheen of sweat zed his forehead, darkshes quivering above brows drawn tight, his handsome features knotted with unease and panic.


    Memory flickered–Julius had mentioned nightmares before.


    <i>Is </i><i>he </i><i>trapped </i><i>in </i><i>one </i><i>again</i><i>? </i>


    The possibility tightened her chest, a quiet rush of worry humming beneath her ribs.


    Sweat gathered faster on Julius‘ brow, forming bead after bead that slid down his temples.


    Quinn pulled a tissue from the box, intent on blotting the moisture away.


    But the instant the tissue brushed his skin, his eyes flew open–sharp, amber, and flooded with terror and remorse.


    Quinn winced; his hand mped around her wrist so fiercely that bone protested beneath the


    pressure.


    “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” Julius whispered, voice raw, eyes unfocused. “I should have saved your brother. I’m sorry…”


    Shock flickered through Quinn. <i>What </i><i>on </i><i>earth </i><i>is </i><i>he </i><i>reliving? </i>


    “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” His lips trembled, the words looping like a broken record. Though his eyes were open, the mist inside them proved he was still trapped in the dream.


    His mouth quivered, and the five fingerstched around her hand quivered right along with it.


    “Quinnie, please don’t abandon me, okay?” he pleaded, his voice splintering. “I never meant to deceive you. I–I was only terrified you’d leave me.”


    Quinn stood frozen. <i>So </i><i>this </i><i>is </i><i>his </i><i>nightmare</i>? <i>Is </i><i>he </i><i>dreaming </i><i>of </i><i>the </i><i>day </i><i>I </i><i>broke </i><i>up </i>with him?


    Her right hand protested with a faint crackle where his grip ground bone against bone.


    Yet the ache in her wrist barely registered; the sharper pain pulsed in her heart.


    Quinn raised her free hand, cupping his fevered cheek. “Easy now,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere, Julius. I will never leave you.”


    He blinked hard, sableshes trembling like moth wings just freed from sleep. Little by little, the hazy ze retreated from his eyes, leaving them sharp, lucid, unmistakably awake.


    “Quinnie…” Julius whispered, the single word rasping out of sleep like a plea that had traveled a long way to find her.


    “Yes, it’s me,” Quinn answered, voice as soft as velvet yet steady enough to anchor him to the present. With the corner of a lukewarm towel, she dabbed the fine sheen of sweat that glistened along his cheekbones. “Has our breakup been haunting you so badly that even your dreams turn dark?”


    Julius‘plexion shifted in an instant, the calm washed away by sudden rm as he shot upright, muscles coiled tight. “How did you-” The question shattered halfway, because only then did he realize his fingers were locked around her right hand, knuckles whitened from the grip.


    The moment awareness returned, his five fingers sprang open, and his gaze dropped to her wrist.


    A raw crimson band branded her pale skin, a silent record of how fiercely he had clutched her only seconds before.


    “I’m sorry,” Julius muttered, his voice low and scraped raw. “I wasn’t fully awake. Next time I lose myself like that, don’t hesitate to hit me hard enough to drag me back.”


    “And what if I can’t bear to hit you?” Quinn countered, gaze soft


    yet unflinching.


    Surprise flickered across Julius‘ eyes, quickly chased by a fragile hope. “Is that one of your little ploys to cate me?”


    “It’s no ploy. Everything I’ve said is true,” she murmured. “You toss and turn because the dream grips you so cruelly. How could I bring myself to hit you? And besides-”