The manager nodded. "Very well, I’ll wait."
Her lackey hastily turned back to her. "Claire, call Mr. Sloan quickly! Let him teach this ungrateful manager a lesson!"
Claire Yeats’s expression changed slightly, but she quickly put on a gentle smile. "Forget it. It’s such a trivial matter; let’s not put Mr. Sloan in a difficult position. Besides, Nathaniel is so busy. I really shouldn’t bother him over such a small amount of money."
The lackey didn’t doubt her in the slightest. "Claire, you’re always so considerate of Mr. Sloan. He must care about you so much."
Claire’s cheeks flushed slightly.
Estelle Lockwood drawled lazily, "Miss Yeats, are you sure you don’t want to contact him? It’s over two million, after all."
The manager smiled as well. "Indeed, Miss Yeats. Since you’ve already brought up Mr. Sloan’s name, it makes it awkward for us to collect the payment. But if we really don’t collect it, I won’t be able to explain it to my superiors. How about this? Why don’t you go ahead and contact Mr. Sloan?"
The lackey glanced at Estelle, and suddenly, her eyes lit up. She leaned in and whispered into Claire’s ear, "Claire, I bet Estelle wants to see Mr. Sloan too, but her status is too low to get an audience with him. Why don’t you ask Mr. Sloan to come and say a few words? It would be a great way to put Estelle in her place."
Claire did indeed find Estelle to be an eyesore. If Nathaniel Sloan were to come, it would perfectly demonstrate the massive gap in status between the two of them.
But... but...
Claire secretly bit her lip. "Nathaniel is too busy, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to..."
"Miss Yeats, you’ve said so much, yet every sentence is an excuse," Estelle said slowly. "Could it be that your acquaintance with Nathaniel Sloan is actually just a lie?"
The manager chuckled. "That is highly likely. Miss Yeats, if you couldn’t produce this much money at the moment, we could have given you a few days’ grace period out of respect for the Yeats family. Yet, you chose to lie."
"Who says Claire is lying?!" The lackey was furious. "With Claire’s status, how could she not know Mr. Sloan? They’re childhood sweethearts!"
Estelle replied, "Oh? Then let Mr. Sloan come down and see us."
"You—!" the lackey sputtered.
"Enough." Claire feigned helplessness. "Nathaniel is truly very busy. Let’s not bother him. I’ll just pay the bill directly."
The manager took Claire’s bank card and swiped it, then looked at Estelle again. Estelle nodded.
The manager then said, "Miss Yeats, it seems you have no choice but to call Mr. Sloan now. This card of yours... has been frozen."
The air grew dead silent once more.
Estelle raised an eyebrow. "How could Miss Yeats possibly be out of money? She must have just handed you the wrong card."
"That must be the case," the manager agreed. "Miss Yeats?"
When Claire heard that her card had been frozen, panic seized her heart, and a bad premonition welled up inside her. She subconsciously pulled out another card.
"It must just be an accident," she thought. "Why would my cards be frozen for no reason? Quentin couldn’t possibly..."
"I’m very sorry, Miss Yeats, but all of these cards have been frozen." Suspicion crept into the manager’s eyes. "Do you really have the money to pay the bill? If you are temporarily out of funds, I can contact Young Mr. Yeats first. I’m sure the Young Master wouldn’t renege on a debt."
"No, you can’t!" Claire rejected the idea immediately. Quentin already forbade her from being extravagant. Moreover, he had recently found the true daughter of the Yeats family who had been living on the outside. What if... what if Quentin found out about this...
Claire quickly said, "There’s no need. I’ll look for my other cards. Don’t worry, you won’t be shorted a single penny."
However, the result was the same. Every single one of Claire’s cards had been frozen, without exception.
Claire’s expression finally cracked.
Estelle rested her chin on her hand, watching the drama unfold at her leisure. Upon learning that Claire’s cards were locked, Estelle suddenly grew curious about the Yeats family. Why would they freeze Claire’s cards just because they found the true daughter, when they had doted on Claire so much in the past?
Judging from Quentin’s character, Estelle didn’t think he was the type to completely cast aside his cousin just because he had found his biological sister. After all, they had spoiled her for so many years; he shouldn’t be this heartless.
That meant there had to be another reason. The Yeats family must have discovered something that enraged them enough to cut off her funds. Furthermore, the person who gave the order likely wasn’t Quentin, but rather the Family Head or Old Mr. Yeats.
Just as she was pondering this, Claire suddenly looked at her with a frown. "Miss Lockwood, why don’t you pay this two million for me first?"
Estelle had been thoroughly enjoying the show. Suddenly singled out, she pointed at herself. "Me?"
It had really been a long time since she had seen a sheer lunatic as presumptuous as Claire. Claire insisted on treating everyone, and now she wanted Estelle to foot the bill?
Amused, Estelle asked, "On what grounds?"
Claire scowled. "I am Miss Yeats. Are you saying you’re unwilling, Miss Lockwood?"
The lackey chimed in, "Exactly! Ordinary people don’t even get the chance to pay for Claire. You’re given the opportunity and you’re not happy about it? This is your honor!"
Estelle clicked her tongue. "It’s not entirely impossible for me to front the money for you. However, how do I know if Miss Yeats will ever pay me back?"
Claire grew impatient. "I am Miss Yeats. Do you think I’d covet your money?"
No matter what she said, Claire always had to preface it with the phrase: "I am Miss Yeats." She unceremoniously demanded that others pay her bill and claimed with absolute certainty that it was an "honor," all simply because she was "Miss Yeats."
Normally, Estelle wouldn’t have bothered getting involved. But now, the Yeats family was her mother’s family. She didn’t want their reputation ruined by Claire.
Estelle’s smile turned colder. "Whether you are the true Miss Yeats or not, you know very well in your heart. Using the Yeats family as a guarantee doesn’t seem very convincing."
"You...!" Blood rushed to Claire’s head. However, remembering that there were other people present, she let out a cold sneer. "The Yeats family isn’t enough? Then what about Mr. Sloan?! I am Mr. Sloan’s friend, and this is his hotel! Mr. Sloan can vouch for me! Pay the money for me first!"
It was the first time Estelle had ever seen someone so arrogant while begging for a favor. Curious, she asked, "Miss Yeats, do you really know Nathaniel Sloan?"
Claire felt that Estelle was simply refusing to pay for her. On what grounds? These lowly peasants were born to serve her. What was wrong with demanding a little money from her?!
Hearing Nathaniel Sloan’s name, Claire couldn’t help but put on a haughty expression. "Of course. Mr. Sloan and I are childhood sweethearts. We’re friends. With my family background, what’s so strange about me knowing him?"
"Is that so..." Estelle pondered for a moment. Then, she looked at the man beside her and asked with a radiant smile, "Do you know Miss Yeats?"
Claire furrowed her brows. She felt incredibly irritated, completely baffled as to why Estelle was beating around the bush. Just as she was about to snap at her, the man who claimed to be Estelle’s husband suddenly turned his gaze toward Claire.
Those light gray eyes were deep, like ancient wells of freezing water. For some inexplicable reason, they sent shivers down her spine.
Then, she heard the man say in an icy tone, "I do not have a friend like you, Miss Yeats."
...
What did that mean?
Claire’s heart skipped a beat. What did that mean? Why did this man speak as if he were Mr. Sloan? He said he didn’t have her as a friend? Could it be... was he...?