Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny (Quintessa and Tyrone) novel Chapter 393

Quintessa flashed a grin, "Oh yeah? How about dropping dead for me, just for kicks?"

Rachel's lips quivered, her eyes brimming with tears, looking utterly pitiful.

Silence fell over the room as Mrs. Harrington surveyed them, seemingly weighing her options.

Tyrone glanced around, debating whether to step in and lend a hand.

Only Serena appeared truly anxious, darting looks from one person to the next, dismayed by their refusal to speak up, especially Tyrone, who seemed moments away from intervening himself.

Biting her lip, Serena said, "Quinn, please, don't do this. It's... it's terrifying... No, don't be like this. We all know each other here, and Ms. Young... she's your Rachel, after all. No matter what, you're family."

Quintessa's cold gaze swept over them, making Serena shiver. "Scared, are you? Just close your eyes if you want to play the hero in front of me. I'd suggest you take a good look at yourself first."

Suddenly, Mrs. Harrington stood up, reached out, and pulled Rachel to her side. "It was you who went to Alex yesterday, wasn't it?"

Rachel nodded quickly, "Mrs. Harrington, I'm so sorry. If it wasn't for me, Mr. Harrington wouldn't be hurt now. It's all my fault, please forgive me."

Mrs. Harrington smiled and nodded, "Ms. Young... you really do have a kind heart, don't you? Unlike some people, who, despite being saved, show no gratitude and instead repay kindness with hostility. It's truly disgraceful."

Mrs. York patted her son on the shoulder, sighing, "Son, I share your disdain for such people. I just wish that girl had been gone for good back then."

Mrs. Harrington trembled with rage, "How dare you speak to me like that..."

Quintessa shrugged, "I've got more where that came from. Want to hear it?"

Mrs. Harrington sneered, "A bastard child, venomous and selfish, shameless and vile. You think you've ascended to the heavens by clinging to the wealthy. Be careful, the higher you climb, the harder you fall. Watch yourself, or you might just break your neck."

Smack! The sound of a slap echoed sharply.

Mrs. York slowly lowered her hand, "I told you yesterday, there won't be a next time. I offered you dignity, and you refused. Now, don't blame me for tearing off that old mask of yours."