The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1897

This wasn't something that could be resolved just by having powerful spells. Besides, the spirit was originally supposed to stay inside Celestine's womb. With the original body's protection, the malevolent spirit wouldn't have manifested at all.

Even if they were given a month to deal with the Maynerd family's problem, let alone seven days, they still wouldn't be able to solve it. After all, no ordinary person could have ever imagined the identity of this third malevolent spirit.

The three cultivators once again turned their attention to Wynter. What they were most curious about now was who she really was.

If she were one of their peers, why had they never heard of her name all these years? If she were a newly trained cultivator, how could someone with such an excellent spiritual root not belong to any sect? Her name wasn't even on the list for the Arcane Way Forum.

Plus, why hadn't the mainland delegation sent her?

The three cultivators exchanged glances, each showing their confusion.

However, in Havenia, nothing was more emphasized than the theories of fortune and fate. There wasn't a single wealthy family here that didn't believe in it.

If Wynter was so capable, wouldn't their own status rise as well once they became acquainted with her?

It was clear these three cultivators were indeed thinking far ahead, and quite extensively at that.

In stark contrast, Driscoll's eyes already reddened as he stared fixedly at Celestine's belly, his usually upright back trembling slightly. "Walton... is it really you? Walton!"

This time, "Celestine" avoided his gaze, pressing her lips into a stubborn line. It was an expression unmistakably belonging to a defiant little boy.

Wynter watched the spirit. "Did you hear that? They had already chosen your name long before you were even born, Walton Maynerd. They put even more thought into it than they did for your sister's name.

"That name was meant for you to inherit great aspirations and embrace the world. Your father had already planned to entrust the entire Maynerd family to you. No one could have been more excited about your arrival than he was."

Celestine's eyes flickered, the soul within her wavering. "That's just pretty talk from adults! I won't be fooled again!"

"Fine. Let's say it's as you believe, that this family had long forgotten you." Wynter met Celestine's gaze. "Then how did you even enter the Maynerd household? An unborn soul under six years old can only find its way home if its family calls for it.

"In this house, your parents mentioned you more than once. Even your sister, after overhearing the adults' conversations, filled her room with toy race cars. She's just a young girl who loves dolls, yet she bought all those things for you."

Wynter tied a knot in the red thread. "The reason you were able to gather enough spiritual energy to form a soul and take residence here is precisely because of your sister's thoughts.

"I've seen her horoscope—she has the ability of soul-summoning. She knew you were here before your mother did, didn't she?"

Walton didn't refute her. Instead, he turned his gaze away. The mention of Jules always stirred complex emotions in him.

He believed it was because of her that he had become stillborn. At least, that was what his mentor had told him.

Between him and Jules, only one could live. It was because Jules had been too domineering in Celestine's womb that he had been stillborn from the moment of birth. For years, he believed it was because their parents had wanted her to be born, not him.

It only made him more certain that his mentor was right when he saw the Maynerd family gradually forget his existence. Slowly, nothing in the house that was tied to him remained, as if his very being was something shameful—something no one dared to speak of.

And so, he began his revenge. Following his mentor's instructions, he first had to condense his soul into a spirit. As a stillborn, forming a spirit was inherently difficult. He needed a blood relative's longing, but both Driscoll and Celestine carried too much merit, and an adult's life force was too strong.

He couldn't get close to them. The only one he could approach was the sister he resented most.

Hence, he called her name. His mentor had said she might not hear him, yet back then, after just one call, she responded. She even told their parents that she wanted a little brother.

That was how he truly became a spirit. Then, he began to manipulate her, slowly corrupting her room. After all, he could use her body to live if he could fully replace her.

She listened to him, but she also always did unnecessary things—bringing him treats and buying toys meant for little boys. Walton believed she was foolish and wondered if she even realized a spirit couldn't eat.

Maybe it was because he had never had a companion before, but gradually, he began to feel that having someone like her around wasn't so bad.

But her body slowly grew weaker. Of course, he knew it was because of him. Every day he stayed, her life shortened by another day. But he wanted so badly to know what it felt like to be alive that he pretended not to notice.

One day, Jules said, "Mommy and Daddy have been so busy lately, especially Daddy. He has so much to deal with. If only I were a boy, then our family wouldn't be bullied by others. Actually, even as a girl, I know I can do it, but people outside just don't believe me."

He laughed when he heard that. Of course a girl couldn't command respect—that was what his mentor had taught him.

So, he asked, "And what did Daddy say?"

"Daddy said boys and girls are the same. Women hold up half the sky."

She was still so naive and sheltered.

"Don't worry, Walton. I'll work hard for both of us! I'm going to study math really well. Mommy says I'll start elementary school this year, and then I'll be a grown-up!"

He hated that response. He was the one who should have mattered more—the son and heir. How could boys and girls be the same? Who was she to "work hard" for him? The Maynerd family was his by right.

After that, Walton didn't appear for three days.

Jules seemed frantic, calling for him constantly. His mentor said it was good for his soul's cohesion. Of course she wouldn't want him gone—she owed him, after all.

But then Driscoll and Celestine noticed something was wrong. They tried to heal her, summoning renowned doctors, terrified that something might happen to her.

Walton sneered at that, wanting to ask if they would have cared half as much if it had been him like this.

When the doctors failed, the Maynerds called in cultivators. That was what finally enraged him. Just as his mentor had warned, they wanted him erased, completely and utterly.

So, he lied to Jules, telling her that if she gave him her blood, he wouldn't have to disappear.

She obeyed without hesitation, murmuring, "Walton, Mommy and Daddy miss you, too. I saw Mommy crying the other day."

He didn't believe her. His mentor had said this was just a trick—a way to manipulate his sympathy so she could survive. If he fell for it, he'd be the one to vanish again.

"Lies! You're lying!" he screeched. Now, he finally looked his true age.

The resentment energy radiating from him plunged the entire hall into a chilling cold.

Dalton, as if unable to tolerate the freezing temperature, merely lifted his eyelids slightly.

In an instant, Walton's soul was pinned in place. Even his piercing shrieks were abruptly silenced, as though muted. Realizing he could no longer make a sound, he opened and closed his mouth helplessly, his teeth sharp but his gaze too fearful to meet Dalton's.

"Enough." Wynter withdrew her gaze and checked the time. "Mr. and Mrs. Maynerd, you have two minutes to say your goodbyes. He has to leave."

After all, only when he was gone could Jules return.

No one could accuse Wynter of being heartless. A malevolent spirit like this had no place in the world of the living. What he needed most was to move on and reincarnate if he still could.

Walton hung his head low, refusing to accept that he'd been deceived. His fists clenched until his nails dug into his palms, his hatred palpable.

His appearance was terrifying enough that most wouldn't dare look at him directly. In fact, even the three cultivators averted their eyes.

But Celestine, now fully conscious, rushed forward and pulled him into a crushing embrace. "My Walton… It really is you. So, this is what you would've looked like grown up..."

Her hands trembled as they cradled his face, treating him like glass. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her voice breaking. "Do the wounds on your face hurt?"

Just as Wynter had said, Celestine had sensed his presence all along.

"I knew you'd come back. I always wanted to see you, but I thought you must hate me. That must be why you never showed yourself to me."

Her voice was raspy as she continued, "Your sister is sick. I'm not saying this to hurt you. Let me take your place, okay? Mommy has lived long enough—I can go in your stead."

The moment she embraced him, Walton froze. He'd never known human warmth could feel like this. Even when he'd possessed her, it hadn't been the same.

No one had ever asked if his wounds hurt. His mentor never cared about such trivial things. And besides, wasn't this how a malevolent spirit was supposed to look?

His eyes flickered uncertainly. He didn't know how to respond, but when she offered to die in his place, he jerked back violently, shaking his head. "No! Don't!"

He didn't want Driscoll or Celestine to die. He just wanted them to admit they'd been wrong—that had been the plan all along.

His mentor had told him they'd realize abandoning him was a mistake if he made them suffer enough. But now…

Staring at Celestine's increasingly frail body, at the dwindling flicker of her life force, something finally clicked.

"He lied! He lied to me!"