Queen of Wild Cards novel Chapter 193

After leaving the Blackwood Group, Stella headed straight for the Shipley Estate.

The Abbot had texted her, mentioning that he and Orville Shipley had been acquainted in their youth. Now that the old man was gravely ill, the Abbot wanted her to pay the family a visit and see what she could do.

Steward Shipley had done her a favor at Shirley & Co. Jewelers, and since his grandfather was sick and had ties to the Abbot, she figured she owed them a visit. However, she absolutely did not want Steward to discover her true identity.

So, before heading over, she took a detour down a busy shopping street to pick up a few supplies.

By the time she stepped out of her car at the Shipley Estate, she was a completely different person.

Her bangs now hung heavily over her eyebrows, and thick, black-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of her nose. Her face was dotted with artificial acne breakouts. Dressed in a ratty plaid flannel, oversized baggy pants, and bright rubber clogs, clutching a reusable grocery tote, she looked like an absolute hillbilly.

She marched up to the grand entrance and rang the doorbell.

A maid came out to answer it.

Seeing the tacky, country-bumpkin attire of the person standing outside, the maid sneered indignantly. "Who are you, and why are you leaning on the bell? Do you have any idea where you are? This isn't a place for some trashy hick to loiter. Get lost!"

"I was asked by a mutual friend to come treat Mr. Orville Shipley. Go tell them I'm here." It seemed the staff here were terrible snobs. She wondered if the masters of the house were just as bad.

"Wait here."

Hearing that the visitor was here for the old man's illness, the maid didn't dare completely blow her off and headed back to report.

After all, the old man was suffering from severe stroke complications. The doctors had claimed there was nothing more they could do, leaving the entire Shipley family in a state of sheer panic.

If she delayed a potential treatment, she wouldn't be able to shoulder the blame.

Even so, she didn't rush. She lazily strolled into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and sat down for a solid ten-minute break before finally ambling over to inform her employers.

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