Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Quintessa flung open her purse and deftly extracted the cash inside before tossing the wallet to Jerome, “Jerome. Consider the cash compensation for your girlfriend’s offense against me.

Jerome’s handsome face momentarily registered surprise but quickly regained his usual refined composure. His eyes, hidden behind those wire–rimmed glasses, twinkled with interest. With a slight curl of his lips, he responded smoothly, “Safe travels.”

Miranda’s face twisted with anger, “Quintessa, even if you have no shame, we do. What’s the difference between you and a streetwalker?”

Quintessa ignored Miranda’s words, carelessly stuffing the money into her handbag, “My dear sister, after all these years, you still haven’t learned. How many times have I told your not to provoke me? Otherwise, I can’t predict what I might do.”

Spencer clenched his teeth, “Quinn, what are you trying to pull? It’s not like we haven’t given you money.”

Quintessa sneered, “Oh, have you? Since when? I must’ve missed the memo.”

The Youngs were stingy when it came to her. Aside from a small suitcase and a plane ticket, Quintessa had nothing.

They weren’t sending her abroad; they were exiling her. They’d probably rejoice if she never made it back.

The expressions on the faces of the Youngs turned sour as if they had swallowed something foul. Sean was nearly grinding his teeth to dust, “If you don’t leave now, you’ll miss your flight.”

Quintessa stood her ground, “If I miss it, I won’t go. I’m in no rush.”

Sean looked like he wanted to throttle her, but he managed to keep his fury in check. He pulled out his wallet and handed her some cash, “You’ve always been reckless with money. Try to be more frugal abroad. We’ll send you living expenses regularly.”

Quintessa scoffed at the notion of being called reckless with money. She yanked the cash from his hand, a paltry three to four hundred bucks by her estimate. This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

She glanced at the cards and thought that if they weren’t useless abroad, she might as well have taken them all.

Quintessa stuffed the cash into her bag, “If you had been this generous earlier, things would be so much simpler. Keep pinching pennies like this, and you’ll be bankrupt before you know it.”

Tyrone had been silent throughout the exchange. His eyes narrowed as he watched Quintessa’s graceful figure. A nameless rage burned within him.

This woman hadn’t even glanced at him once the whole time.

When Rachel noticed Tyrone’s gaze on Quintessa, she spoke softly with her eyes red, “Quinn, I won’t hold that night against you. Since you’ve called me ‘auntie‘, I’ll give you some advice. You can’t act like this outside. Not every woman will be as forgiving as I

am.”

Rachel posed as if she were magnanimous and kind, seemingly letting Quintessa off the hook but with every word aimed to wound, short of saying, “Don’t be so promiscuous; stop hopping into every man’s bed.”

Quintessa knew Rachel’s game. She was trying to show Tyrone her good–natured and obedient side, unlike Quintessa, the shameless one; they were not in the same league.

Quintessa chuckled, “Auntie Rachel, you’re just brimming with kindness. Since you’ve been so gracious, why should I hold back?”

Rachel paused as she sensed trouble brewing. Quintessa turned on her heel to face. Tyrone, her hand hooking around his neck, “Tyrone, do you like my lipstick today?”

Tyrone replied dryly, “Passable.”

Quintessa’s fingers traced Tyrone’s lips, “Want a taste?”