The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1984

The manager's eyes narrowed. "That won't do, either. The restaurant doesn't welcome this dog."

Sadie immediately stood up. "Thank you. I'll just leave."

She then pulled on the leash and, with her white cane, slowly made her way toward the door.

Just then, Wynter walked over and held her back. "It's fine, we can eat somewhere else. I wouldn't have an appetite while eating with people like this, anyway."

The nearby customers glanced over.

"Just go already. Seeing that dog ruins my appetite."

"Exactly. Hurry up and leave. My good mood is completely spoiled already."

"Not everyone is fit to dine in a fine restaurant."

"Do you think you're that superior?" Wynter's gaze deepened. "I recall one of you saying that she was ignorant because she ate a well-done steak without cutting it properly.

"It seems you believe eating a well-done steak makes someone beneath you. Cascadia grew not for you to rely on your cutlery so much. Our strength lies in the fact that we are capable of tearing chunks off of meat with our teeth. Did this girl eating here cause you any real trouble?"

Wynter's voice remained calm as she continued, "She is disabled, yet she has the courage to face life again. And what about you? Do you think you're superior just because you imitate foreign cultures?

"How foolish. It would be an insult to her if I compared her to you people. If she can afford this meal, who are you to dictate how she eats?"

Wynter then turned to the manager. "Let's take a step back. Is she not paying her bill after dining? Are you going to throw her out just because of some people's words?"

Hearing this, the crowd fell silent, lowering their heads and pretending to focus on their food.

Dalton turned back to glance at them. "Pretentious."

Wynter didn't continue further. She knew that these people's prejudices wouldn't change, no matter how much she said. They would always believe foreign culture was somehow superior and that imitating it made them stronger.

The saying "knowledge had no limits" was true, but the mistake lay in how some twisted its meaning.

Take knives and forks, for example. The practice of separate dining was abandoned long ago by Cascadia's ancestors.

During ancient times, the main cooking methods were roasting and boiling. Hence, meat came in large chunks that required cutting, and knives and forks were most commonly used back then.

Later, as iron-smelting techniques advanced, meat was cut into slices, shreds, or small cubes before cooking for better taste. From then on, knives and forks were no longer essential. Yet, few people knew this.

To those who blindly worshiped foreign trends, everything used abroad seemed like fashion. Following them was, to them, the same as being fashionable.

Wynter and the others left together, with her supporting Sadie while Wolf held onto the guide dog.

Sadie's voice broke as she spoke. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Wynter supported her as they walked slowly. "This isn't a big deal. I just couldn't stand how they acted."

Sadie gripped Wynter's hand. "No one has ever spoken up for me like that, so…"

"Just because no one has spoken up for you doesn't mean the world isn't beautiful." Wynter comforted her patiently. "By the way, where's your home? I'll walk you back."

Sadie lifted her head. "Wouldn't that trouble you?"

"Not at all." Wynter smiled. "Helping others is a traditional virtue of Cascadia."

Sadie nodded firmly. "Thank you. If I could, may I touch your face? I want to remember your appearance with my hands."

"Of course," Wynter agreed and stepped in front of her. Since she was taller, she bent down slightly and placed Sadie's hands on her own face. "Go ahead."

Sadie's hands gently felt along Wynter's face, gliding over her features. "I'll remember it. I can tell that you are a very beautiful person, even if I can't see."

Wynter straightened up, her eyes resting on Sadie's.

For those with visual impairments, darkness was their constant companion—an infinite, unbroken emptiness with no boundaries and no end.

"Have you had your eyes examined?" Wynter tucked back a strand of Sadie's hair. "With modern technology, there might still be a chance for recovery."

"I did." Sadie opened her bag. "Here are my CT and MRI reports. The doctors said there's no possibility of recovery…"

Wynter took out the reports and looked through them. They showed that Sadie's optic nerve had indeed been severely damaged, making recovery nearly impossible.

"Alright, then." Wynter carefully placed the reports back into her bag. "Let me send you home first. Where do you live?"

"Okay." Sadie smiled sweetly. "My home is far from the city. It's near the port."

"The port?" Wynter asked. "Do you mean Port Victoria?"

"Yes!" Sadie nodded. "That's right, though my home is very simple."

Wynter supported her as they walked. "Aren't your parents worried about you going out on your own?"

"They…" Sadie lowered her head. "They left me when I was very young. My grandmother raised me."

"I'm sorry," Wynter said with a trace of guilt.

"It's fine." Sadie clenched her fists. "I don't want to drag them down, anyway. To them, I am just a burden."

Wynter looked away. "Don't think that way. Everyone has a purpose in this world. You're not useless—you have your own worth."

Sadie nodded firmly. "Mm hmm! I'm unique, too."

As they continued walking, they finally reached her home.

Wynter glanced ahead. A waterway ran nearby—one could travel directly here from the mainland's Halsbury. She quietly noted it before helping Sadie inside.

The room was very simple, a humble dwelling with only the most basic furniture—a table, chairs, a bed, and a kettle.

Wynter guided her to the bed. "We're home."

"Thank you." Sadie looked up. "Would you like to stay for a while? My home is very simple, though."

"It's fine." Wynter smiled. "Though simple, it's cleaner than most places."

Sadie nodded. "My grandmother should be nearby picking things up. She'll be back later."

Wynter looked at her as her brows furrowed slightly. "Do you trust me?"

"I do…" Sadie clasped Wynter's hands. "You're a kind person, so of course I trust you."

"Then, I'll tell you something." Wynter's eyes narrowed. "I observed your eyes very carefully just now. Your optic nerve isn't completely atrophied. A very small part of it still shows activity.

"It's like a tender bud covered by heavy snow. It looks dead, but beneath, there's still a trace of life."

Sadie's throat tightened, as if something was stuck there. "Does that mean…"

"That means there may be a way to awaken it," Wynter said, enunciating each word.

The room fell eerily silent. Sadie could hear her own rapid heartbeat and feel the rush of blood burning her cheeks.

After so many years, this was the first time someone had told her "maybe" instead of "impossible".

"Really?" Sadie's voice trembled.

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