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Novel Catalog
Chapter 77: Great Gifts from Mr. Yarwood
“Mr. Yarwood?” Xavier’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Why is he looking for her?”
His surprised outburst caught the attention of everyone still lingering in the room. Whispers spread like wildfire—Did they hear that correctly? Mr. Yarwood, the patriarch of the powerful Yarwood family, was seeking out the “fake daughter”?
The bodyguard, with a calm and professional demeanor, nodded. “Mr. Yarwood wants to return the things belonging to the Yates.”
Ah, so that’s what it was. He was only looking to return something. That made sense. How could a man of his stature possibly be interested in someone like her, a small-town girl with no notable connections? The tension in the room eased as people exchanged knowing glances.
Abel, ever protective, stood in front of Wynter. “I’ll go with her,” he insisted, the promise he made to his grandfather to protect her ringing in his ears.
The bodyguard shook his head politely but firmly. “Sorry, sir. Mr. Yarwood only invited Ms. Yates.”
“My surname isn’t Yates,” Wynter interjected, her voice calm but firm as she squeezed the phone in her pocket. She wasn’t about to let the misunderstanding slide, not when it could work to her advantage. “Please lead the way.”
Abel, concerned for her safety, tried to reassure her. “Don’t worry, Miss. The Yarwoods are reasonable!”
Wynter gave him a casual wave. “Don’t overthink it,” she replied, her usual calm demeanor not betraying her thoughts. But in truth, she too was calculating her next steps.
If she was being invited by Mr. Yarwood, it was likely not because he had discovered Wolf’s involvement. Perhaps she had unknowingly triggered a hidden surveillance feed in the inner hall. If that was the case, it would be easy enough to fabricate an excuse, play it cool, and keep her wits about her.
The bodyguard, still hesitant, finally spoke up. “Ms…” he trailed off, unsure of how to address her properly.
“I’m Wynter Quinnell,” she answered smoothly, her eyes studying the guard with an unwavering gaze.
“Ms. Quinnell,” the bodyguard repeated, then gestured toward the door. “Please come in.”
She raised an eyebrow, a little bemused. “Aren’t you coming in?”
The bodyguard didn’t answer, merely standing still by the door with a stoic expression, as though it were his duty to remain outside.
Wynter’s eyes quickly darted around as she entered the study. She slipped a communication card out of her pocket and slid it inside her phone, freezing the screen.
The study was impressive in its own quiet way. The open-air attic had a calming, natural vibe, with plants filling the space and a screen positioned in the middle to provide a view that resembled a medieval landscape. A faint scent of medicinal incense lingered in the air, the first thing that hit her nose as she entered.
The room was eerily empty. It felt like a place of intellectual isolation, perfect for quiet reflection or planning. But there was one peculiar thing that immediately caught her attention: the screen on one side of the room. It displayed the very scenes of the inner hall, meaning Mr. Yarwood had been watching them all along.
So, he had been observing everything, using his own means to stay informed. Wynter couldn’t help but smile to herself.
The tea was still warm, and the table was set with a chessboard. It appeared the game hadn’t yet concluded, though the player was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t make any move toward the game but instead focused on the wooden box sitting in the center of the table, with a piece of paper sealed inside it.
The handwriting on the paper was flowing and elegant, strong yet graceful.
“Ms. Yates, please accept them.”
Accept them?
Wynter’s lips curled into an amused smile. She had a pretty good idea of what was inside that box—the Zenith herb that the Gibsons had so eagerly seized.
But she wasn’t sure if Mr. Yarwood meant for her to take only the contents of the box. She considered the possibility that there might be more to the gifts.
Without much hesitation, she took the wooden box, but also grabbed a cup of tea from the table. After all, who could resist a good cup of herbal tea? She paired it with a macaron from the plate beside it. She hadn’t eaten much since the consultations, and now seemed like a good time to indulge a little.
As she sipped her tea, she picked up the pen next to the box and, on the same piece of paper, wrote a reply in neat, flowing script.
“I’m not surnamed Yates. Thank you for the hospitality. I will only take what I should. The dessert is delicious. In return, I would like to remind Mr. Yarwood that it’s not wise to inhale medicinal incense for too long.”
She folded the paper and placed it back on the table, making sure her reply was subtle yet clear.
It was a small act of defiance, but it was her way of letting Mr. Yarwood know she wasn’t just another pawn in his game.
