"Claire!"
Quentin’s face was incredibly dark. "You do wrong without an ounce of remorse! You make mistakes time and time again, provoke others, and still refuse to apologize! Do you think you’re completely off the hook just because you have the Yeats Family behind you? What makes you think the Yeats will always back you up and tolerate you ruthlessly bullying others?"
Claire shut her eyes and roared, "It’s the truth! She’s nothing but a lowly peasant! How can she even compare to me? Everyone besides the Yeats is a peasant born to be trampled under my feet! What eighteen-year-old coming-of-age gown? If I like it, it’s mine! Instead of obediently handing it over, Estelle actually dared to fight me for it and humiliate me! She deserves to die—Ah!"
SLAP.
Quentin struck Claire hard across the face.
Claire’s eyes went wide, nearly bulging out of her head in fury. "You hit me for this little bitch?! I’m your sister! I’m a noble daughter of the Yeats Family!"
"So this is how Third Uncle and Third Aunt have been raising you."
Claire visited their grandfather every week. Every time she came, she acted incredibly well-behaved, kind, and understanding.
He never expected her true colors to be like this!
Quentin immediately gave the order. "Send Claire back to Third Uncle. Without Grandpa’s explicit permission, she is no longer allowed at the main estate."
Claire stared in shock. That sentence meant they were stripping her of her status!
The status as a lady of the Yeats Family that she cared about most!
"Quentin! Quentin, you can’t do this!"
The assistant dragged Claire out. Her lackey, looking utterly terrified and frantic, hastily scrambled after them.
Nathaniel’s face twisted into a mocking sneer. "It seems Young Mr. Yeats hasn’t completely sorted out his family’s affairs yet. If Estelle were to return to the Yeats Family now, she would inevitably suffer grievances."
Quentin opened his mouth to apologize, but then he realized that the Yeats Family was indeed the very "confidence" that allowed Claire to hurl such insults at Estelle.
He could only say, "It won’t happen again."
DING.
Estelle’s phone received another money transfer.
"Pocket money," Quentin said.
Estelle raised an eyebrow. Was he some sort of walking ATM?
It was obvious that Quentin felt guilty but didn’t know how to make amends, so he resorted to throwing money at her.
After two seconds of silence, Estelle suddenly spoke up. "Earlier, Claire said she always knew I had the authentic gown. She wanted it, so she stole it. I’d like to ask you to help me find out where she got my grandfather’s design drafts from."
Finally presented with a chance to make it up to Estelle, Quentin naturally wouldn’t refuse. "Alright, I’ll give you an answer as soon as possible."
The two of them seemed to run out of things to say.
Quentin suddenly realized how independent Estelle was. She had lived with her grandfather since she was a child and had never tasted the warmth of any other family. After her grandfather passed away, she had closed herself off.
Because of this, Quentin felt like she didn’t really need him at all.
"Estelle..." Quentin said with difficulty. "Grandpa said he’s flying over tomorrow and might stay in Crestfall permanently. But since he’s coming all the way from Imperia on such short notice, a lot of things haven’t been sorted out yet.
"His properties here haven’t been cleaned up, and he isn’t used to staying in hotels. So, he hopes... he hopes he can..."
Quentin had originally thought Estelle would agree, but after the incident with Claire just now, he wasn’t so sure anymore.
Estelle raised an eyebrow. "Old Mr. Yeats wants to stay at my place?"
Quentin immediately nodded. "Yes."
"Sure," Estelle replied.
Quentin had wanted to say more to persuade her and hadn’t expected her to agree so quickly. "Estelle, you’re agreeing to it?"
Estelle gave a faint nod. "Biologically speaking, Old Mr. Yeats is my maternal grandfather. Imperial Crest is huge, so one more person won’t get in the way. Why would I refuse?"
Besides, she had some things she wanted to ask him anyway.
After the meal, Quentin relayed the good news to Old Mr. Yeats.
Stroking his nonexistent beard, Old Mr. Yeats sounded immensely proud. "Little Treasure, I knew I didn’t misjudge you! Excellent, excellent! I’ll be moving into Estelle’s home soon. Hehe, don’t be too jealous of me."
Quentin was speechless. "I’ve told you many times. I’m all grown up now. It’s not appropriate to call me ’Little Treasure’ anymore."
"Alright, alright, I get it," Old Mr. Yeats said. "Big Treasure."
Quentin rubbed his temples. Forget it.
He brought up business instead. "About the company..."
"Your dad is in charge. Don’t worry about it." Old Mr. Yeats exploited his son without an ounce of shame. "If those old geezers object, ignore them too. Your dad can handle it. They’re already throwing a fit just because I’m shifting my focus. If I give Estelle shares in the future, are those old fogeys going to hang themselves at my front door?"
Quentin was used to the old man’s lack of seriousness. "Alright, understood. By the way, Grandpa, Claire targeted Estelle several times today. I’ve already had my assistant keep an eye on her and will send her back to Capital City tonight."
"I already froze her cards, and she still hasn’t learned to behave?" Old Mr. Yeats scoffed before suddenly drawling, "There’s no need to send her back. Tomorrow, your Third Uncle and Third Aunt are insisting on coming with me. Let them properly discipline their daughter. From now on, they won’t need to return to Capital City, either."
If they couldn’t return to Capital City and had no foothold in Crestfall, it meant that Third Uncle, Claire, and their entire family were going to be banished from the Yeats Family.
"Quentin," Old Mr. Yeats said, his tone faint. "These people rely on the Yeats Family to survive. As the Young Master of the Yeats Family, you naturally hold the power of life and death over them. You must not abuse this power, but you also cannot abstain from using it."
He paused before continuing. "You handled this matter with Claire far too gently. But you’re still young, and your parents can’t bear to see you use ruthless methods. So, let me handle Claire."
"I’m sorry, Grandpa," Quentin said. "For the longest time, I never saw Claire’s true colors."
It wasn’t until she screamed those words today that Quentin realized their past "pampering" of Claire had equated to cruelty toward others.
How many people had she bullied using that excuse? She felt superior just because she was part of the Yeats Family, treating everyone else as "peasants" and "stepping stones."
"As long as you know you were wrong." Old Mr. Yeats fell silent for a long moment before suddenly chuckling. "Alright, let’s not talk about this anymore. I’ll get to see Eleanor’s daughter tomorrow. It truly is something to look forward to."
It didn’t take long for Quentin to find the answer to Estelle’s question.
Claire had seen the design draft in Third Aunt’s hands. She was absolutely blown away by it and immediately decided to claim it as her own.
However, Quentin was still investigating where Third Aunt had acquired the draft.
Estelle pursed her lips.
After her grandfather passed away, many of his belongings disappeared overnight. Estelle had investigated for a long time and discovered that they had been stolen.
At first, she wondered if her grandfather had some sort of special identity that made people intentionally steal his things.
But her grandfather was merely the brother of Old Mr. Lockwood. What was so mysterious about that identity? Aside from that sicko Old Mr. Lockwood who was jealous of him, no one else would care about it.