The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1770

As Tracy shook her head, trying to rid herself of the intrusive thoughts, a sudden gust of wind swept through the air. Though it was a crisp autumn day, she felt as if she had fallen into a freezing cavern.

Quickening her pace, she eventually broke into a jog, desperate to shake off the ominous feeling. Yet, no matter how fast she moved, the sensation of being watched clung to her like a shadow, making her heart pound and beads of sweat form on her forehead.

Before long, she finally reached a well-lit area where there was a security guard.

Just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a hand tapped her on the shoulder. Tracy jumped and panicked. "Don't come for me! I had nothing to do with it!"

The man behind her frowned and replied, "Tracy, what's wrong?"

Hearing the familiar voice, Tracy exhaled deeply. "You scared me to death! I kept feeling like someone was following me."

The man, Malcolm Dwain, was old enough to be Tracy's father. He was clearly in his late 40s and had a noticeable belly.

But Tracy didn't seem to mind in the slightest. She even stood on her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. "I was so scared. Can't you spend more time with me these days?"

"I can't right now. You know the school is dealing with that huge incident. I have to be there to manage things," Malcolm said as he looked around to check if anyone was looking.

Tracy pouted. "Then you'd better help me with my thesis."

Malcolm's hand slid to her waist, his breath growing heavier. "Come to my office when you need help."

But Tracy couldn't shake her unease. "Stacey took that photo of us in your office. I—"

Before she could finish, Malcolm clamped a hand over her mouth. "Don't ever mention that to anyone!"

Seizing the opportunity, Tracy made her demands. "Then when are you divorcing that hag?"

"I'll divorce her after this case blows over. The school's in the spotlight right now, and it'll draw too much attention. Plus, that hag will take half my assets. I need time to move things around first. Otherwise, how will I support you, my love?" Malcolm replied.

Tracy pouted and huffed. "You'd better. The longer you're tied to that woman, the more time we waste. You don't want our son to be born a bastard, do you?"

The mention of a son made Malcolm's eyes light up. His gaze shifted to Tracy's stomach. "That hag's genes were awful. She gave me nothing but money drains. Don't worry, I'm counting the days. I haven't seen you in so long, so let me go upstairs with you."

Tracy knew exactly how to handle men. After all, her youth was her greatest asset. "Fine, but take a shower first. I don't want to smell that hag on you."

Malcolm tugged at his shirt, sniffing it. "You're right, it reeks of her cooking. I thought you liked the food she made. I even brought some for you."

"That was before. I was only polite to her out of respect for your position. Who would look up to someone like her otherwise? She's just a small-town housewife." Tracy's disdain was palpable.

Malcolm opened his mouth to reply but stopped short. He had noticed that his wife had been unusually useful lately, making a decent amount of money online. However, he didn't know exactly what she was doing.

The two, confident no one was paying attention, dropped all pretense of their usual public facades.

The security guard was well acquainted with them by now. After all, they'd been living there for three or four months, and it was clear their relationship wasn't exactly normal. But who cared these days? People minded their own business.

Unbeknownst to them, a shadowy figure stood in the dark alley Tracy had just run through. The alley was deep and unlit, but it was the shortest route from Monway University to this neighborhood.

As a car's headlights briefly illuminated the area, a woman holding a basket of groceries caught sight of the pair's behavior. Her hands clenched tightly into fists as she muttered under her breath, "You were right, Sage. Some people really are scum. They deserve to die."

…

In the surveillance room at Monway University, Wynter was still staring at the screen, her eyes fixed on the dormitory building entrance's footage.

According to criminal psychology, perpetrators who induced others to commit suicide often shared a common trait. They would revisit the crime scene to relish the results of their manipulation.

Of course, this behavior usually stemmed from a deep-seated disdain or resentment toward the victim—or someone who embodied the victim's traits.

While schemes like romance scams targeted wealth, rituals designed to harness human sacrifices craved lives.

Moreover, Dalton had previously emphasized that for one to acquire heaven's fortune, it would require the person to act on Heaven's behalf.

It was never random. The connection between the victim and perpetrator was subtle but always present. However, it was too insignificant for them to realize it yet.

Wynter's intuition told her that Stacey's death was no exception. There had to be a link, though it was unclear how aside from their online interactions. And Stacey's missing phone held the answers she needed.

Though her eyes never left the monitor, Wynter's thoughts expanded far beyond the screen.

She hadn't eaten anything since she arrived at the university or even taken a sip of water. Between organizing the restructured scholarship program and this case, she hadn't taken a single moment to pause.

This was the first time Whitley had seen her acting like this. As a Savior bound to her, he could feel her emotions profoundly. It wasn't the case's complexity that was affecting her—no, it was something else entirely.

Though unsure of the specifics, Whitley turned his gaze to Dalton, who had summoned him here.

Dalton didn't waste any words. He merely lifted his gaze slightly, those deep, commanding eyes giving off the impression of absolute control.

Standing just outside the surveillance room, his fingers held an unlit, slender black cigarette. When he turned his head to the side, his attention fell through the glass onto Wynter inside.

The meaning was clear—he wanted Whitley to accompany Wynter. Whitley, though still without his memories, understood his role well. Wherever he was, the atmosphere would never turn too oppressive.

"Oppressive" might be the wrong word. Rather, he had a way of dispelling gloom. Simply put, he had the ability to make people happy as long as he chose to.

Whitley knew this ability of his wasn't all that remarkable, but what surprised him was that Dalton knew about it. Wynter herself seemed unaware of it. However, it seemed that even Kaspar, whom he had met a few days ago, seemed to realize that he brought luck wherever he went.

Whitley cast another glance at Dalton, then his gaze shifted to his hand. After a moment, he nodded.

He figured Dalton wouldn't harm Wynter. Otherwise, there was no reason for him to go to such lengths to ensure her happiness.

As for the rumors spread by Leo and the others, claiming Dalton loved devouring cultivators' souls, especially grand masters—they had to be just that, rumors. Yet, despite everything, Whitley couldn't shake the sense of danger. Deep down, in his very bones, he feared Dalton.

Crow sighed deeply as he took in the scene, finally stepping forward with two bags in hand. "My Lord, here's your fruit tea and KFC."

This kind of junk food wasn't something Dalton would touch. It was obvious who it was for.

"Whitley seems to—" Crow began before Dalton interrupted him.

Dalton's voice remained calm and indifferent. "Gather everything that has to do with me at Monway University by any means necessary.

"If you fail like last time and allow someone I don't know to continue their pathetic offerings to me, I'll have Wolf deal with you. Wolf has been needing enlightenment recently. While he prefers Whitley's energy, you'll do just fine."

Crow froze. Was Dalton seriously threatening to feed him to Wolf?

"A person who shouldn't be here—or rather, a person who shouldn't be appearing here in this way," Wynter explained, pointing at the specific spot on the screen, her sharp gaze glinting.

"If we can't locate her phone, we'll start with the suspects. Even if we can't catch them right away, we'll dig into their social circle to see what connections they have."

Dalton looked at her. "So, have you decided to save her?"

Wynter didn't answer him directly. "Find them first."

…

In a room on Colifernia's outskirts, Royston bent low, standing in front of a person with the utmost respect.

His previous demeanor, full of authority, was now replaced by subservience. He was considered a Sage in the ritual meeting, but here, he was merely another subordinate.

"My Lord, I've already started on the task you've given me," Royston spoke, glancing at the figure in front of him, trying to gauge any reaction.

The man, however, didn't even acknowledge him.

Before he could dwell on it, the figure spoke. "The task you've been given is progressing well, but I need the pace to quicken. No traces should be left behind."

Royston nodded vigorously. "I understand, my Lord. I will speed things up and ensure nothing delays your plans. The member, Sheep, has been successfully tamed. She now carries a murderous intent. The second sacrifice will be ready soon."

"Good. But..." The figure wearing a demon mask, Junius Gifford, turned to face Royston, his eyes sharp and unyielding. "Royston, a bit of cleverness is acceptable sometimes, but don't overdo it. If you push too far, you might not even know how you ended up dead."

Royston felt a chill run down his spine. The authority in Junius' words, though calm, was terrifying. Royston trembled involuntarily.

"Are you afraid?" Junius asked.

Royston bowed even deeper. "Mr Lord, that's not my intention. Please rest assured, I will follow your arrangements to the letter."

Junius scoffed. "You did follow my arrangements, but what about the money I gave you? Didn't I tell you not to do anything unnecessary?"

At these words, Royston couldn't take it anymore. With a heavy thud, he fell to his knees. "My Lord, I'm sorry! I won't do it again. Please, spare me this time."

"People can be greedy, but they must know their limits. If I catch you again, I'll have you experience what it's like to be a sacrifice. Also, keep an eye on the people involved in the ritual," Junius replied.

Royston bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, my Lord. It will never happen again."

Gone was the pride he had shown during the ritual meeting—only a strong desire to survive remained in his posture.

"Go," Junius said coldly.

Royston slowly stood and bowed deeply. "My Lord, I will take my leave."

As Royston departed, a figure emerged from the shadows, and Junius immediately approached him. "My Lord, should we dispose of him?"

The shadowed figure shook his head. "His greed doesn't pose a significant risk. This is just a lesson for him to remember. Besides, the members he's taming are helping speed up the sacrifices. Otherwise, you'd be progressing too slowly on your own."

Junius pointed out, "The lady from the Quinnell family has already fallen into your scheme. When the time comes, you'll gain the heavenly merit from her. Not only will you take the Quinnell family's fortune, but you will also ascend to the ranks of the grand master!"