Rebirth Of The Forgotten Heiress - Chapter 31: Chapter 31

Yasin leaned against the doorframe, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. He already commanded fear on his best days. And now, with that dangerous glint in his eyes, he looked ready to drop bodies. "What?" he sneered. "Jealous I went night-diving to feed my girl?"
"You're talking nonsense," Rita blurted out, ever the eager attack dog.
Yalena remembered more than just Yasin's name from his name card. That fleeting glance of his and the raw masculinity simmering beneath his polished surface— it was unlike anything she'd experienced from men her age. The contrast stirred something in her.
"Yasin," she smiled and apologized, "Sorry for what we've done."
She was a smart girl. After overhearing Chancey and Graham's discussion about Yasin's suspiciously quiet company acquisition, she'd been instructed to stay on his good side.
Rita shot her a betrayed glare. Way to undercut her moment.
Beside Yarden, Elsie muffled a laugh behind manicured fingers. Now this was entertainment.
Strangest thing though—Yasin hadn't even raised his voice, yet the mob that had been clamoring to ransack the place moments ago now stood frozen.
Yalena turned to address the group with practiced grace. "We're all running on empty after these past two days. Why don't we all get some rest? The food situation will work itself out."
Her gaze flickered to Yasin for just a heartbeat before darting away. But Quinlyn didn't miss it. The subtle exchange made her narrow her eyes and wonder what game Yalena was playing now.
The truth was, the group wasn't starving. They were just hungry enough to be uncomfortable, but not desperate. Everyone except Xavier, who was standing there, seething with anger and glaring at Quinlyn like he wanted to tear her apart.
Just as the tension began to dissipate and people started moving away, Yasin's low chuckle cut through the room. He absently rubbed at the hideous plastic watch strapped to his wrist—the kind of garish junk anyone'd find at a flea market.
"Funny thing," he mused, his tone deceptively light. "I could've sworn I heard someone talking about a bet earlier." His attempt at a friendly smile only made things worse, sending involuntary shivers through the group.
Zachary finally stepped forward. "Let's not take this too seriously. You're all Grandpa's guests here, and there are rewards waiting when we complete this challenge. We're practically—"
The word "friends" died in his throat as Yasin's thumb came down on the emergency button. A red light pulsed a few times before a crisp voice crackled through. "This is Yasin's emergency line. Please state your emergency."
Leaning casually against the wall with one hand on his watch, Yasin half-closed his eyes and smirked. "No emergency. I'm withdrawing. Reason? Simple—someone's about to apologize to my girl."
He unbuckled the watch slowly and tossed it out the open window. As soon as the device left his hand, the call ended with a click. With that distraction gone, he turned to Xavier, who was standing there, looking puffed up and defiant.
Yasin taunted, "Come on. Show some spine. Make sure to ask where they've hidden the food in this building—I'm starving too." His predatory gaze locked onto Xavier like a wolf sizing up a yapping puppy.
Xavier, at his age, had no shortage of reckless courage. Though Yasin's confidence gave him pause, the combination of that condescending stare and Yalena's concerned glance steeled his resolve.
"Fine. Think I'm scared?" He mashed the button without hesitation.
"Hello? This is Xavier's emergency line. Is there... a problem?" The operator's uncertain tone this time was noticeable.
Emboldened by the hesitation, Xavier blurted out, "We found this safehouse, but the first team took all the supplies. Now they're making bets about it. Just tell us how much food was supposed to be here."
There was only dead silence on the other end.
"Come on! Is it really that hard to answer?" Xavier was getting more and more restless, shifting around nervously.
After an interminable silence, the speaker switched to an elderly voice crackling with authority—Logan himself.
He said, "Listen here. If I'd stocked that house like a resort, what would be the point of calling it survival training? And Xavier? You make wagers, and you pay up. Now hand that watch to Zachary. What the hell is he doing?"
Zachary accepted the watch, knowing full well what awaited him. The ensuing tirade culminated in Logan's trademark dismissal. "Can't even manage some spoiled kids, and you think you're fit to run Fletcher Group?"
He exhaled sharply. Lately, his mind had become a minefield of distractions—precisely the kind of weakness he couldn't afford. Whoever ended up as his wife shouldn't affect him.
Knuckles whitening, he marched toward the ongoing standoff. The unresolved tension in his gaze might as well have been invisible for all the attention he paid it. He patted Xavier's shoulder and said, "I'll handle this. Both of you, back to your rooms."
Yalena began, "But Zach—"
"That includes you," Zachary continued.
When Xavier hesitated, Zachary glanced at him and said, "Unless you'd prefer to settle your debt immediately?"
Xavier's face cycled through shades of mortification. The thought of an apology made him contemplate throwing himself off the pier—yet retreating felt equally impossible.
Kevin Green was the group's perennial peacemaker. With the easy diplomacy of someone who'd mediated one too many of Xavier's dramas, he began steering his friend toward the door.
"Quit dragging me, damn it!" Xavier's halfhearted protest trailed behind them.
Quinlyn barely suppressed an eye-roll. Xavier wasn't worth the psychological trauma—imagine her waking in cold sweat years from now, haunted by phantom memories of his face.
Yasin harbored no such reservations. Where Quinlyn saw an immature brat, he recognized something far more dangerous—the kind of entitlement that would've exploited her vulnerability without his intervention. His voice cut through the room. "If you want, then just stay. Let's conclude our business."
Every muscle in Xavier's body locked rigid.