Chapter 1688:

The instant the coffee cup toppled, Jules sprang into action. He thrust his arm forward, shielding Rachel from the steaming liquid before it could reach her.

“Are you okay?” they asked simultaneously, their voices overlapping. While Jules remained composed, Rachel’s face had gone rigid with alarm.

Her eyes darted to his hand—already flushed an angry red—while he calmly pinched the edge of her soaked dress, lifting it slightly to inspect the damage. “Do you want to change into something dry first?” he asked, his voice even.

Just a few feet away, Franco watched the exchange with subtle curiosity flickering in his gaze.

He had been skeptical ever since Rachel announced she would marry Jules. Skeptical enough to dig deep into the man’s past.

The findings were impressive. Enlisted at eighteen. Promoted to lieutenant by twenty. At twenty-four, he wore the rank of colonel—the youngest in his class. A military prodigy.

He had been a sniper with perfect aim. The kind of marksman who left behind legends in his wake, his records untouched even years later. After retiring, he had wasted no time. Within a year, he built Blue Core Technology from the ground up, and within two, he had carved out a domain in the tech industry that no one dared challenge.

Men like that did not flinch at blood or death. How could they possibly hold affection in high regard?

Franco had once believed Rachel’s marriage would be one-sided, all sacrifice on her end and indifference on Jules’ part. But now, watching him gently tend to her, Franco began to reconsider.

Even the hardest men had their vulnerabilities.

Perhaps Rachel, in time, might reach Jules’ heart.

Rachel’s gaze lingered on Jules’ hand, now swollen and pink from the burn. A pang of guilt twisted her stomach. “This is all my fault…” she murmured, biting her lower lip.

Jules gave a slight shake of his head, dismissive. “We should get you into something dry first.”

𝒆𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓬𝓴 𝒄𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓱𝒆𝓻𝑒: 𝗀𝒶𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝓈.𝒸𝑜𝓂

Five minutes later, in her room, Rachel had changed into a fresh outfit. She spotted Jules seated on the sofa, his posture relaxed yet firm.

“I asked someone to bring burn ointment,” she said gently. “Wait for me in the room. I will check on my grandparents first.”

Jules rose to his feet. “I will come with you.”

A flicker of anxiety crossed her expression before she could stop it. She forced a smile, trying to wave him off. “No need. It’s not that serious.”

“Do you truly believe they will see you?” His voice was casual, but it landed like a hammer.

Rachel froze.

She knew he was right. Deep down, she had no illusions—her grandparents had not forgiven her. Why would they see her?

When she stayed silent, Jules continued, “Did you think I wouldn’t find out how this union came to be?”

Her breath caught. She looked up at him, stunned. Her face lost its color, and panic clouded her eyes. “You…”

Her grandparents had turned their backs on her, not merely because she had threatened to sever ties with the family—but because she had thrown her dignity to the wind. She had claimed she once devoted herself to Jules, body and soul. Declared she belonged to him in life and would remain his in spirit. She had gone as far as to damage her own name, spreading rumors of an intimacy that never existed.

Though the Astley family was not particularly old-fashioned, they placed immense value on honor. And Rachel had broken that code. She had known her grandparents well enough to predict the outcome. She won the marriage—but lost her family.

Her disgrace had become the talk of their social circle. She had no one to confide in; the situation was shameful, no matter how she tried to frame it.

Franco had once told her—her grandfather, Michael, had personally investigated Jules. And truth be told, putting aside the family background, Jules was a stronger match than most of the idle aristocrats in their circle.

Initially, Michael had hesitated. He had only ever wanted one thing: a secure, respectable match for Rachel. Nothing more.

But Rachel had defied all expectations. She had acted recklessly, concocted lies, and gifted their rivals ammunition to mock the Astley name.

Michael—proud and principled—could not tolerate such a stain.

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