The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1907

Over at the Dominion Grand Hotel, the chandelier glowed like daylight across the banquet hall. Its golden rays shimmered through glasses of champagne, casting shadows that spoke of wealth and luxury.

Though the guest list was small, everyone present was either a member of high society or a revered cultivator. In Havenia, the wealthy placed strong faith in geomancy and destinies.

The banquet hall was divided into two seating areas—one for the distinguished guests, while the other was reserved for the cultivators. To avoid unnecessary interaction with others, Wynter and Dalton had taken a quiet seat in the corner, knowing that they could easily cause a stir.

Even so, their presence was too striking to ignore, and several guests couldn't help stealing glances their way.

"Those young ones have quite the temperaments. I wonder which family they belong to," a guest mused.

"I felt a chill when I walked past them. Such intensity is rare in Havenia," someone commented.

"Indeed. The young man seems more than meets the eye—he carries himself like a ruler. He reminds me of my father. As for the young girl, she looks so perfect in a mere casual shirt and fitted jeans. I doubt any of the ladies here can take their eyes off her," another added.

The guests murmured among themselves, their voices carrying just enough for Wynter and Dalton, who were nearby, to catch every word.

"It seems like sitting in the corner hasn't dulled your charm, Mr. Yarwood," Wynter teased, looking at Dalton with a grin.

Dalton returned the smile. "You're flattering me, darling. I've done my best to stay discreet. Perhaps it's because of your outstanding presence."

Just then, Wynter spotted three figures approaching—they were the very cultivators presented at the Maynerd residence. She never expected to see them at the banquet, though.

"Hello, Ms. Quinnell." The three cultivators—Garnoc Blethen, Elgan Voils, and Sion Dawes—greeted Wynter. Their voices were laced with genuine admiration. Having witnessed her prowess, they were left deeply impressed.

As the cultivators spoke to Wynter in a hushed tone, the other guests remained unaware.

Wynter rose to her feet, a gesture of respect. "You're older than me, so you don't need to be so formal."

However, the cultivators shook their heads and refuted, "To us, you stand above. We're truly impressed by your deed, and we offer respect to those who deserve it."

Wynter reluctantly accepted their show of respect. "Alright, then. By the way, the three of you look surprisingly alike."

The three cultivators laughed at her remark. "Maybe it's because we've spent so much time together. Oh, would you like to visit our sect after the banquet, Ms. Quinnell?"

A visit from someone of Wynter's caliber would surely bring new blessings—and perhaps even new insights—to the sect.

Wynter contemplated for a moment before agreeing, "Sure. But I have a few matters to attend to first, including the search for a missing person."

Instead of showing disappointment, the three cultivators assured her, "You're always welcome at Mt. Dracorite. For your information, the three of us have decided to lead the sect together due to certain circumstances. This way, we avoid any power struggle."

Wynter silently memorized the name and said, "Understood. I'll visit you once I've taken care of everything."

"We look forward to your arrival. We'll take our leave now." The three cultivators offered a courteous bow and made their way back to their seating area.

Wynter watched them leave. Just as she settled back into the seat, Dalton's charming voice drifted over.

"You just got here, and you're already showing off your brilliance," he teased.

Wynter grabbed his necktie and yanked him close, stopping just shy of their noses brushing. "You're coming with me. With your weak constitution, a little time at the sect might help you regain some strength."

Meeting her eyes, Dalton softly answered, "As you wish, Ms. Quinnell."

Seated in the corner, their intimate posture escaped the other guests' attention. Otherwise, they would have drawn everyone's gaze.

Elsewhere in the hall, Driscoll and Celestine were noting the guests' arrival.

Just then, Celestine frowned. "Everyone's here except Antoine. He's probably still on his way."

Driscoll gave a nod of acknowledgement. "We can't hold up the banquet any longer on account of Antoine's tardiness. I'm sure he'll understand."

Celestine agreed, "You're right. Let's start the banquet."

With that, Driscoll made his way to the stage and stood behind the microphone stand. He cleared his throat, testing the volume and catching the guests' attention.

Upon spotting Driscoll on the stage, the guests hushed themselves. In an instant, the bustling hall turned silent.

Such a level of respect was reserved solely for Driscoll. Had it been anyone else, the response would be far from gracious.

Having caught everyone's attention, Driscoll gripped the microphone and began, "Thank you all for attending this banquet tonight. We call it that, but it's actually a celebration of my daughter's recovery."

His announcement dropped like a bomb, sending ripples of shock across the hall.

"Hasn't Mr. Maynerd's daughter been ill for ages? Even the doctors or mediums couldn't cure her."

"Unbelievable! I once visited their house and had a glimpse of the child. She barely left the bed—sometimes sober, but often unconscious. It was rather creepy. And now she's recovered?" a guest exclaimed.

"I heard that the heads of Mt. Dracorite personally went to the Maynerds and cured the child."

"What? They went in person? I heard they rarely come out of the mountains, often sending their disciples instead. If they came in person, then the child's condition must be dire," another mused.

"I'm hiring them to examine my house's geomantic layout after the banquet."

"They're right at the cultivators' table. Let's go meet them after the speech," someone suggested.

The three cultivators, having overheard the whispers, couldn't help feeling embarrassed. While they did help sort a few things out at the Maynerds, it was nothing next to what Wynter accomplished.

They had intended to clarify matters to the crowd, yet Wynter declined. After all, fame and reputation had never meant much to her. Let the world draw its own conclusion.

Driscoll waved a hand to quiet the chatter. "My daughter's condition was unusual. Despite her long illness, the doctors reported no physical abnormalities. Even the mediums couldn't detect anything wrong.

"Yet, this afternoon, cultivators from Mt. Dracorite, whom I invited to examine her, managed to ease her condition. For that, I can't thank them enough."

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