After I Died for Justice, He Chased Me for Years

Chapter 2

The thick, charged atmosphere shattered in an instant.

Nathan's sharp, evasive move felt like a stinging slap across Jillian's face.

She froze, rooted to the spot, words stuck in her throat, humiliation burning through every inch of her skin.

Nathan, on the other hand, acted like nothing had happened at all. "What's wrong? Did you need something from me?"

Jillian shook her head, her face drained of all color. Then she heard him speak again: "Then head back to the bedroom. Get some rest early."

Jillian couldn't even remember how she stumbled back to her room. The second the door snicked shut behind her, her eyes flooded with hot tears.

The old Nathan would never have turned her away. He'd always looked at her with that soft, indulgent smile and said, "Go for whatever you want, I've got your back."

They'd stayed up together through every late night of training, kissing and holding each other tight every time they won an inter-unit tournament!

But the closer they'd been back then, the colder and more distant he was now.

Scalding tears cut tracks down her cheeks, but Jillian couldn't make a single sound, not even a sob.

She could only gulp in ragged breaths, repeating the same thought to herself over and over: she was the one who'd chosen to go undercover, the one who'd walked away and left Nathan for six whole years.

He owed her nothing. Even if he broke up with her right now, she had no right to beg him to stay.

But no matter how hard she tried to talk herself into it, Jillian couldn't stomach the idea that they'd finally found each other again, only to split apart immediately...

She tossed and turned the whole night through, not catching a single second of sleep.

The next morning, Jillian dragged her exhausted body out of the bedroom.

Nathan had already made breakfast. "I'm off today. After we eat, I'll take you to the hospital to get your throat checked out."

Jillian froze mid-step. She'd been mute for six years; there was no fixing it.

But looking at Nathan, she just couldn't bring herself to say no...

At the Houston Hospital, after finishing the examination, the doctor sighed and shook his head, regret written all over his face. "There's no cure for this. You've been mute for years; why did you wait so long to come see a doctor?"

Jillian had already known this would be the answer, so she didn't feel all that hurt. She was more worried about how Nathan would take it.

Sure enough, his face turned icy cold. He grabbed her hand and yanked her toward the door. "We're going to another hospital."

Jillian didn't fight him. She followed him from one hospital to the next, every single one giving them the exact same diagnosis.

The scorching midday sun beat down hard enough to make the asphalt sweat.

But a freezing, bitter chill rolled off Nathan in waves.

When she saw him line up for yet another registration queue, Jillian reached out and tugged his sleeve. She held out a slip of paper she'd just scribbled on: "Nathan, just let it go."

Nathan snatched the note right out of her hand and crumpled it into a tight ball. "Your throat will get better. You need to be able to live independently."

That word—independent—stabbed into her chest like a sharp, searing knife.

The memory of the kiss he'd pulled away from the night before popped into her head unbidden, and it felt like a jagged rock was stuck in her throat, scraping raw until it throbbed so badly she could barely get air.

Her face as pale as a sheet, Jillian's hand shook as she kept writing: "Even if it doesn't get better, I can still take care of myself."

She didn't even finish writing the last word before Nathan cut her off, his voice sharp and cold. "That's not happening."

Jillian's hand froze in mid-air. After a long, heavy beat, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She scribbled slowly, one character at a time: "Okay. It will get better."

Only then did Nathan look satisfied. He turned and led her back into the hospital building.

They hopped from one hospital to another all morning, until Nathan got a call from Richard, summoning him back to the branch urgently for an emergency.

Before he left, he made a point of telling Jillian to go to her remaining appointments on her own.

Jillian followed the navigation route Nathan had set up for her, but as she walked, the surroundings started to feel strangely familiar.

When she spotted the street sign, she realized she was right by her old family home.

Seven years ago, her parents had sacrificed their lives while investigating the Taylor Group. To fulfill their last wish, she'd chosen to follow in their footsteps. She'd spent six years undercover, and to avoid blowing her cover, she hadn't come back even once to pay her respects to her parents this whole time.

Jillian swallowed down the tight, bitter ache rising in her chest and hailed a cab to the martyrs' cemetery...

By the time she got back to the Quinn residence, it was already dark out.

The second she stepped through the door, she saw Nathan sitting on the sofa, his face as cold as a block of ice. "The doctor said you never showed up for your appointment. Where did you go?"

Jillian didn't try to hide it. "The cemetery."

The words had barely left her mouth before Nathan shot to his feet so fast the legs of his couch scraped against the floor, his face twisted with rage. "Are you out of your damn mind?"

"There are still so many Taylor Group lackeys running loose! What if one of them saw you and figured out you were the undercover agent? What do you think they'd do to you? What do you think they'd do to your parents buried in that cemetery? Do you want them to never get to rest in peace, even in death?"