Chapter 375
[ 509 words ]
Chapter 375:
Her biological father was there, dressed in his street clothes, his face a mask of grief and stubborn anger. He was trying to walk toward the elevators, but a man was holding his arm, his grip gentle but firm, preventing him from leaving.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a dust-covered army combat uniform. His back was to Caroline, but the set of his shoulders, the sheer, uncompromising presence of him—it made the air leave her lungs in a single, silent gasp.
Donovan saw her first. His eyes, red-rimmed and full of pain, locked onto Caroline’s. “There you are,” he said, his voice raw with betrayal. “Are you going to lie to me some more?”
The man holding her father’s arm turned around slowly.
It was Jarrod.
He looked exhausted, his face leaner than she remembered, smudged with dirt. A fresh scratch ran along his jawline. But his eyes were the same—intense, piercing, and currently fixed on her with an unreadable expression.
Caroline froze. Her mind couldn’t process it. He was supposed to be on the other side of the world. He was supposed to be unreachable.
His gaze flickered from her face to the man standing just a little too close beside her. His eyes landed on Julian, and the temperature in the hallway dropped by twenty degrees. A cold, dangerous light entered his expression.
He looked back at Caroline. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the murmurs of the crowd like a razor.
“Come here.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a command.
Rea𝘥 o𝗇 𝗮ո𝗒 𝗱e𝗏𝘪се 𝗼n g𝘢l𝗻𝗈𝘃еlѕ.𝗰𝘰𝘮
Donovan let out a frustrated sigh. He pulled his arm from Jarrod’s grasp. “I can’t do this right now,” he said to no one in particular. “I’m going home.” He looked at Julian. “Thank you for your help, Doctor. But I need to be alone.”
He gave Jarrod a long, weary look, then glanced at Caroline. With a shake of his head, he turned and walked away, leaving a wake of stunned silence and unresolved tension.
The crowd of onlookers began to disperse, sensing the private drama was over. Soon, it was just the four of them left in the hallway: Caroline, Jarrod, a shocked Brenna, and a confused but resolute Julian.
Jarrod’s eyes never left Caroline. He repeated his command, his voice lower now, laced with an unmistakable edge of impatience. “Caroline. Get over here.”
Julian took a half-step forward, placing himself slightly in front of Caroline. His posture was protective, his voice firm. “I think the lady needs some space, not an order.”
The air between the two men crackled. It was a clash of two different worlds—the calm, compassionate doctor versus the hardened, commanding soldier.
Brenna looked back and forth between them, her mouth slightly open, a million questions in her eyes.
Caroline stood frozen in the middle, her head spinning. Her father’s betrayal, Melanie Corbett’s cruelty, and now this. Jarrod was back. And he had brought the storm with him.
Jarrod’s gaze shifted from Caroline to Julian. A flicker of something cold and dismissive, almost amused, passed through his eyes. He didn’t bother to address the doctor. His focus was singular.
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