Rebirth Of The Forgotten Heiress - Chapter 71: Chapter 71

Yarden's pupils dilated the moment he spotted that all-too-familiar pill. Quinlyn had, in just one night, left him so traumatized by it that even if Yasin stabbed him right now, it wouldn't scare him half as much as that pill did.
"I..." Yarden's voice trembled, trailing off in fear.
"Fine. Two pills, then," Yasin said coldly. As he spoke, he peeled open the foil packaging and retrieved two tablets.
"I-I'll talk!" Yarden stammered in surrender.
Yasin shook his head with feigned disappointment. "Pity. I thought you'd hold out until the third pill."
Yarden gritted his teeth. But deep down, he feared that taking three pills at once would be the end of him. "Yes, it wasn't an accident back then. My mom did it on purpose."
From Yarden's account, it became clear this wasn't the first time the Guzmans had searched for their daughter. But the more beautiful Quinlyn grew, the more determined Callie was to keep her hidden from them.
It wasn't until Quinlyn started acting out and Yarden needed money for marriage that Callie finally began to consider letting Quinlyn be found. She wanted to make Yalena shine brighter than Quinlyn so Quinlyn would be loathed.
Yasin's heart ached as he pictured that skinny little Quinlyn—on snowy days, scrubbing dishes in icy water with hands red and raw, yet still greeting the world with a hopeful smile. But under relentless, calculated oppression, she gradually bent over, unable to stand tall again.
Bit by bit, she strayed onto the wrong path. She was branded with cruel labels—"low-class," "unpresentable," "small-minded." Even daring to yearn for what rightfully belonged to her was condemned as "delusional," "malicious," and "intolerant."
After Yarden finished speaking, a long silence followed. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, too afraid to meet Yasin's gaze. When no response came after what felt like an eternity, he finally dared a glance.
What he saw made his blood run cold. Yasin was rigid with tension, his eyes burning with dark intensity.
"You promised not to kill me!" Yarden cried out, his voice trembling with fear. "Help. Somebody help me." Yarden screamed, panic overtaking him.
Yasin reached out toward Yarden, his hand hovering in midair—just inches away, not yet touching him— when an acrid stench slowly filled the room. Liquid seeped through the blanket, dripping onto the floor below with soft plinking sounds.
Yarden's face was deathly pale. "Don't kill me. Please, don't kill me..." Yarden whimpered, his voice trembling with fear. He kept murmuring the words, pleading for his life.
When facing Quinlyn, he could still cling to a shred of reason. But with Yasin standing before him now, he knew with terrifying clarity that Yasin would actually kill him.
Half an hour later, Callie returned with a pot of chicken soup and a few hundred dollars in hand. Her mood slightly lifted after a "careless" driver had "accidentally" scraped her, leaving her with some compensation.
But the moment she entered the ward, the acrid, unfamiliar smell hit her, and seeing Yarden lying there with an ashen face and pupils unfocused, she instantly collapsed.
"Yarden!" she screamed, rushing to his bedside and frantically calling for the doctor.
The next day, Quinlyn learned from Chancey that Yarden was literally out of commission. His lower body had stopped functioning, and he had developed complete incontinence. The doctors couldn't determine if this was stress-induced or a permanent condition.
Chancey frowned. "Happy now?" Yarden was finished. Whether he ever got out of that hospital bed was his own problem now.
Quinlyn shook her head at once. "You're wrong, Chancey. This really has nothing to do with me. If you want answers, go ask Yalena—she always cares about her own family." With that, she turned and headed downstairs without another word.
Standing on the stairs, Chancey frowned and snapped, "Must you compete with Yalena over everything?"
Quinlyn turned her head and gave him a sidelong glance, noticing the bruises on his face had darkened overnight. Waving her freshly bandaged hand, she taunted, "What, looking for another fight this early in the morning?"
Chancey's face darkened as he stormed downstairs.
Quinlyn strode ahead, unwilling to waste any more breath arguing. To her, a good fight was all she ever needed.
If it were Yalena who got drugged at home, and none of her parents or brothers would answer her calls, Chancey would never say that to her.
The night passed, and the Guzmans' mood had noticeably lifted. It was mainly about Yalena.
She wore a fitted pale-yellow dress and had her hair in twin ponytails, which made her look adorable. But the real highlight was the glowing nameplate above her head. It came with a soft, natural halo, like a built-in beauty filter.
Yalena spotted Chancey and Quinlyn coming downstairs together. A sweet smile lit up her face, her dimples showing. With that delicate, doll-like appearance, she was the very picture of someone one'd want to protect. "Good morning."
Quinlyn rubbed her nose, a hint of amusement in her eyes. She didn't know why Yalena would be so full of energy after just one night. As soon as Quinlyn sat down, she understood why.
It was because of Zachary. Ever since he left that day, he'd been on a hunger strike, which finally gave Yalena the chance to take care of him.
Quinlyn glanced at Yalena and couldn't help thinking, 'Girl, you really need to aim higher. Seriously, what's so special about Zachary?'
Quinlyn glanced back at Chancey. His face was still frozen in that look of utter disbelief from earlier, making it hard to read his expression for the moment. But with her nose for gossip, she kept her eyes locked on Chancey.
Her stare made his skin crawl. Chancey finally snapped, "What is it?"
Quinlyn grinned. "Just look at your face. Those bruises are so perfectly even. I wonder which master you went up against to end up with such a perfect two-toned face." And just like that, the conversation was over before it even began.
After delivering her verbal jab, Quinlyn strolled out, cool as ever, off to live her hard life, when Yancy came scrambling after her. "What's the hurry? Where are you off to?" Yancy called out.
Quinlyn frowned at Yancy. If last night was just an accident, then what Yancy was doing now was obviously buttering up. "I'm just heading out for a walk. It's hard for them to talk about serious family stuff with me around."
After all, with Yarden in that state, they couldn't just heartlessly throw him out on the streets.
Yancy had clearly heard the rumors. His brows knitted tightly as he struggled to find the right words to comfort her. And then, his gaze fell on the dark circles under her eyes. "What's with your eyes? Couldn't sleep last night?"
"No, I was cultivating enlightenment," Quinlyn replied. "You know those Zen masters who sit cross-legged all night without sleeping? Yeah, that's what I was doing."
Yancy could practically feel how uncomfortable Chancey was. "Must you always talk like that?" he snapped, raising his voice sharply. "No wonder the whole family dislikes you." With that, he turned and stormed off.