Rebirth Of The Forgotten Heiress - Chapter 52: Chapter 52

After Quinlyn kept pushing him, Yasin finally gave up on the idea of turning around for a round two.
His face gave nothing away, but Quinlyn knew he was just putting the idea on ice. He hadn't let it go. After all, she was well aware that Yasin wasn't exactly a good guy at his core.
Quinlyn peeked at the character label floating over his head. She thought it fit him perfectly right now.
She even figured if that label went up a level, it'd probably suit him even better. Little did Quinlyn know, she was predicting the future.
When Yasin and Quinlyn got to the Fletcher residence, many people were already there. Elsie was there, looking shockingly tame.
She wore a conservative dress with a high neckline and a hem that brushed her ankles. Her usual over-the-top hairstyle was gone, replaced by something so simple she almost looked dignified.
Elsie wasn't exactly a welcome guest in these circles. The second she spotted Quinlyn, she beelined over, a practiced smile pasted on her face. "There you are," she exclaimed. "I've been waiting forever."
Quinlyn didn't blow her off. She had to admit, she admired people like Elsie—the kind who knew exactly when to bow and when to bite. People like that always clawed their way to the top.
Elsie fell into step with Quinlyn and Yasin. Not long after they entered, Yalena showed up. But something was off. She'd changed her outfit, and the perfectly composed, beautiful mask she'd worn when she left the house was now cracked and crumbling.
Quinlyn's first instinct was to look at Yasin. She suspected he really had sent someone to ambush Yalena with water balloons and flour bombs.
Yasin blinked innocently, as if to say, "Hey, not me. If I'd orchestrated this, I'd want a front-row seat to the chaos."
Elsie leaned in close to Quinlyn's ear and whispered, "Everyone's talking about it. How they sent a fancy car for you and a piece of junk for her."
Quinlyn suddenly got it and felt kind of shocked. She thought, 'I see. Gossip like that doesn't spread unless the Fletcher family wants it to.'
Unsurprisingly, Yalena had barely walked in when Xavier rushed over. Zachary had totally switched up his vibe—went from sad puppy to guard dog mode. He made sure to shoot Quinlyn a death glare.
Quinlyn slowly twirled a piece of her hair around her finger and gave him a sweet, mocking smile in return. The message was unmistakable.
Then, she casually checked her phone. Her same-day delivery was scheduled to arrive in less than an hour.
Quinlyn was already in a foul mood tonight. If some people wanted to start drama, she could definitely put those things she'd ordered—but wasn't sure about using—to damn good use.
Once everyone got there, Logan showed up with his cane. He was dressed in a tailored suit, a warm smile playing on his lips as he surveyed the room.
The dinner party was small, intimate enough for everyone. They could all fit around one table.
Most of the young people didn't even want to be there. They'd already been bored to tears for days, so they weren't in the mood for this gathering. Everyone looked half-dead. Of course, half the problem was all the drama between them—love triangles everywhere.
Logan sat at the head of the table and looked around. "Now, I have no intention of being a boring old man who drones on all night.
"Let's just eat. After dinner, head out to the backyard—I've got gifts and a party waiting for you all, so you can unwind and enjoy yourselves."
That perked everyone up. Yalena didn't say a word the whole time. As dinner was starting, Zachary still hadn't shown up. She looked around, then just stared down at her plate.
Xavier, however, noticed Zachary's absence and didn't hesitate to ask. "Mr. Fletcher, where's Zachary?"
"Zachary is in his room, resting. He's developed a bit of a lung infection. Several of his wounds are inflamed, and it seems he has a hairline fracture." Logan said.
He gestured for his butler, Frank, to pour the fruit wine for the young. "Everyone, please, have a taste. It's barely any alcohol. It should be just right for you."
Quinlyn assumed this meant Zachary wouldn't be joining them. But then Logan's voice cut through the chatter again. "Frank, go fetch Zachary. All his friends are here to see him. He can't hide in bed like that."
'Really, that's not necessary,' Quinlyn thought to herself.
A wave of awkwardness washed over the table. Logan paid their silent protests no mind, and he just kept glancing at Quinlyn.
When he saw she couldn't care less and actually seemed pretty happy, Logan thought, 'Zachary's is utterly useless.'
A few minutes later, Zachary limped into the room, propped up by a crutch. He looked like death warmed over—white as a sheet.
He wore a crisp white shirt, but one could see the faint outlines of bandages wrapped all over his torso. He looked so fragile that a strong breeze might knock him over.
Zachary looked around the table. When he spotted Quinlyn and Yasin, he suddenly got fired up. Their mocking words had clearly left a deep psychological scar. The second Zachary saw their faces, he could hear their taunts echoing in his ears.
The pitiful weakness in his posture vanished. Zachary stood up straighter and walked over to Logan with purpose. "Grandfather," he said, his voice low and steady.
"Go on, find a seat. How about right there?" Logan said, casually pointing to an empty chair.
That seat was directly across from Quinlyn. Yalena was on the same side but had two people between them. Logan had obviously set this whole thing up.
"You gonna be okay?" Logan asked Zachary, trying to sound worried.
"I'm fine," Zachary said through gritted teeth. He squared his shoulders and sat down, directly opposite Quinlyn.
Their eyes met across the table. Quinlyn didn't flinch or look away. She just gave him this cold, polite nod, then stared down at her fruit wine. Even the wine was more interesting than Zachary.
Zachary reached for his fruit wine. Before the glass even touched his lips, someone barked at him. "You can't drink that. You just took antibiotics."
All Zachary caught was a fleeting whiff of the sweet, fruity aroma and the faint scent of alcohol before getting told to back off.
Quinlyn, meanwhile, took a long, slow sip. The tension in her shoulders seemed to melt away.
She thought, 'Damn, the Fletchers really don't do anything halfway. This tastes incredible. The fruit and the alcohol are perfectly balanced.'
Seeing this, Logan said, "Oh, you have a taste for it, Quinlyn. What's your favorite flavor? I have quite the collection."
He had Frank and a bunch of servants parade in, each one holding a bottle of fruit wine. They probably had every flavor on the planet.
The sheer spectacle of it all left the other guests gaping. They thought, 'Just because Quinlyn liked one sip, Mr. Fletcher's treating her like royalty? Sure, fruit wine isn't bank-breaking, but this is getting weird.'
Everyone knew Yalena pretty well, so they all peeked at her and Zachary. Both of them looked like they'd swallowed something sour. Quinlyn, however, felt the invisible strings of manipulation settling around her.
She thought, 'It's a good thing Mr. Fletcher is an old man. If he'd been like this in his prime, Zachary would have had a different step-grandmother for every day of the week.'