The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1993

The whole purpose of this was to make Riley completely believe in Wynter's abilities so that she would bring her home for fortune-telling. That would make it easier for Wynter to investigate clues.

Just then, an elderly woman came down the stairs. She was Jerald's stepmother, Orinda Sydnee.

"Jerald, what exactly are you doing here?" Orinda frowned, glancing at him with a trace of displeasure in her eyes.

Jerald's tone carried no respect as he replied, "I invited everyone here today for a banquet. Do you somehow find that inappropriate?"

Orinda's voice was low and grave. "And why wasn't I informed of this? I'm your father's wife. Don't I have the right to know?"

"Because I think you're getting older and should be resting more." Jerald's words were sharp. "Besides, this is the Rolland family. As the eldest son, I should at least have this much authority, don't you think?"

While they were speaking, Wynter quietly let her gaze roam the hall. Suddenly, she noticed an inconspicuous little door. A lock hung from it, with a strip of paper posted across that read "No Entry".

She could clearly sense that something was unusual there. It felt as though the answer she was seeking lay right behind that door.

Suddenly, a cold voice sounded right by her ear. "So, you're the Ms. Quinnell they've been talking about, right?"

Wynter turned her head, her gaze landing on Orinda. At some point, she appeared behind Wynter, a chilling smile curling at her lips.

"Yes," Wynter replied calmly, meeting her eyes.

Orinda's lips twitched. "I heard you just examined the family's fortune. What exactly did you discover?"

Wynter's gaze remained cool. "I've already told Mr. Rolland what needed to be said—"

But before she could finish, Orinda interrupted her, "Then, perhaps you can repeat it to me as well, hmm?"

Wynter fixed her with a steady stare.

Suddenly, the lights in the hall began to flicker. A strange, cold wind blew in from nowhere, the chandelier above swaying violently and casting twisted shadows.

Among the guests, someone let out a scream.

"What's going on?"

"Mr. Rolland, what's happening here?"

Seeing the situation unfold, Wynter took advantage of the dimmed lights. After silently chanting a few incantations, she tossed a lucky token into a corner.

Not long after, the lights returned to normal. However, the atmosphere in the living room had grown tense, with guests huddled in small groups, whispering in low voices.

Only Orinda remained unfazed, standing right beside Wynter with her lips curved in a faint smile, as if silently declaring that this woman before her was not ordinary.

Every so often, the guests cast Wynter looks filled with either expectation or fear. What had just happened still lingered in their hearts, leaving them uneasy.

At that moment, Belle pulled Wynter aside and lowered her voice. "Ms. Quinnell, what just happened?"

"It's nothing. Just a gust of wind." Wynter's tone was calm and light.

"I know it's not that simple." Belle's voice sank. "I can tell you're powerful, and I know you must have seen the problems in this house. Earlier, Jerald told me to inform you that the trouble might be coming from the basement."

Wynter's gaze lifted slightly. "The basement?"

"Yes. The basement is on the other side of the hall. Normally, none of us are allowed in there except Ms. Orinda…" Belle wanted to continue, but her words were cut off by the sudden music.

A servant wheeled in a cart, on which sat a beautiful three-tiered cake.

"To our honored guests who've come from afar, I had this dessert prepared to thank you for gracing us tonight," Orinda said softly, her tone accompanied by a cheerful expression that felt oddly out of place.

The guests tried to regain some liveliness, though the tension in the air still clung to them.

"In that case, thank you, Ms. Sydnee."

"It's rare to see you in person. What an honor."

Orinda smiled. "Although I am only Jerald's stepmother, I've always treated him like my own son. Since he invited close friends and relatives over, I must set an example as the household's elder. Please, everyone, don't hold back. Let's cut the cake and share it together."

Wynter was still thinking about how to get closer to that inconspicuous little door when Orinda's voice suddenly drifted to her ear. "What is it, Ms. Quinnell? Are you interested in our family's basement?"

"I was just giving the place a casual glance." Wynter raised her brow. "Ms. Sydnee, your home's layout is… quite unique."

"Of course. It was my husband's masterpiece." Orinda's smile hinted at some private amusement.

Then, she leaned closer, the heavy perfume on her almost suffocating. "I know you have some skills, Ms. Quinnell, but I'd advise you not to meddle where you shouldn't. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise what? Are you threatening me?" Wynter stared directly into her eyes.

"It was just a warning." Orinda let out a cold laugh. "Please leave once you've had some dessert. You'll still be paid for your fortune-telling."

With that, she turned and left.

Wynter hadn't planned to get involved, but after hearing Orinda's words and watching her reaction, she was now even more certain that the basement hid some kind of secret.

The last person who tried to threaten her was already sporting a shaved head and enjoying free meals behind bars.

Using the excuse of needing the restroom, Wynter quietly moved toward the small door. Just as she was about to reach it, someone called out to her.

"Ms. Quinnell." It was Jerald, sweat beading on his forehead. "Belle must have told you already. Please, Ms. Quinnell, I need your help."

Wynter's gaze stayed cool. "I can help you. However, you haven't spoken a word of truth, so how am I supposed to help?"

Jerald's face went pale. "I'll tell you everything. The house's entire geomantic layout was done by my stepmother. And I've always felt that there's something wrong about her, though I can't explain it.

"Though painting the stone lions' eyes red was my father's request, she also had a hand in it."

Wynter gave a light nod. "And what about your bedroom?"

"My room…" Jerald hesitated. "That rosewood bed wasn't originally placed in the center. It was moved after Orinda's fortune teller suggested it. Before that, I slept fine—soundly, even. But ever since the bed was shifted, I haven't had a single good night's sleep.

"And the astrolabe really did belong to my father. He told me it could verify things that aren't supposed to exist."

Wynter studied his eyes and knew he wasn't lying. "I see. So, what's in the basement?"

"I don't know," Jerald said as he shook his head. "I've never once gone down there. I'm afraid only Orinda truly knows what's inside."

Just as Wynter was about to respond, she felt him press something into her hand. Looking down, she saw it was a key.

"There's a separate entrance in the west garden." Jerald's voice dropped to a whisper. "I secretly made a copy of this key. Please, I beg you. Find out the truth for me."

At that moment, the guests had just finished their cake, and they began to leave one by one.

Before Wynter could reply, Jerald raised his voice. "Ms. Quinnell, let me walk you out."

Catching on, Wynter followed him toward the main doors. Passing through the hall, she noticed Orinda was nowhere to be seen. Only a few servants were left tidying up the aftermath.

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