Old Mr. Yeats was sure his expression looked completely dumbfounded right now. However, having weathered many storms in his life, he simply smiled, intensely curious. "When did you figure out my identity?"
He glanced down at himself. He was dressed plainly, hadn’t arrived in a luxury car, had no driver, and came completely alone. He had even parked a little electric scooter by the door. No matter how one looked at him, he had absolutely nothing to do with the title of the former head of the Yeats Family.
Estelle raised an eyebrow. "The moment you walked through the door."
Old Mr. Yeats was genuinely intrigued now. "Oh? Where did I give myself away?"
Leaning against the counter, Estelle gave him a knowing look. "Did you really think your disguise was flawless?"
Old Mr. Yeats raised his brows, examining his own attire.
Estelle shook her head. "It has nothing to do with your clothes. The natural aura you carry can’t be covered up by mere clothing. An elderly man with such a commanding presence must come from a prominent, wealthy family. But at this hour, which patriarch of a major family would come looking for me? After thinking it over, I realized it could only be you."
Old Mr. Yeats couldn’t hold back a burst of hearty laughter. "Good, good! You really are Eleanor’s daughter. Your way of thinking is exactly like hers!"
Estelle tilted her head. "I’ve never met my mother."
Old Mr. Yeats’s mood visibly dropped, but a smile quickly returned to his wrinkled face. "It’s fine that you haven’t met her. It’s fine. After she left, I never saw her again either. Since none of us have seen her, it means there’s still a chance she is alive. The unknown holds infinite possibilities."
Estelle was slightly taken aback. Old Mr. Yeats’s thought process was certainly different from ordinary people’s.
It was impossible for her to have deep feelings for a mother she had never met. She had never seen her father since the day she was born, and ever since she could remember, it was her grandfather who had taken care of her and raised her. To her, parents were merely a symbol. They had given birth to her, but they had never actually been present in her life.
Yet now, Old Mr. Yeats’s simple remark about how much she resembled her mother caused Estelle’s heart to suddenly skip a beat. It was a very strange sensation. It was as if she had no connection whatsoever to her so-called mother before, but those few words had suddenly tethered her to the vibrant Eleanor Yeats from over twenty years ago. Estelle felt her heartbeat quickening. She couldn’t help but press a hand against her chest, a tingling sensation washing over her.
She thought, "This is so strange."
"Estelle, since you’ve already recognized me, you should also know the purpose of my visit," Old Mr. Yeats spoke up.
Estelle pulled her thoughts back to the present. "Yes, I know."
"You should call me Grandfather."
The terms used for maternal grandparents were slightly different between Capital City and Crestfall. In Crestfall, people were used to calling them Grandpa and Grandma, while in Capital City, they preferred the more formal Grandfather and Grandmother. As if suddenly realizing this, Old Mr. Yeats quickly added, "Or you can call me Grandpa, whichever you prefer."
Estelle once again felt that Old Mr. Yeats was very different from the patriarchs of other prominent families. It might seem like a simple form of address, but to some people, changing it would be seen as a challenge to their authority.
She smiled gently and shook her head. "Grandfather, it’s fine. We can go with what you’re used to."
Old Mr. Yeats asked with a smile, "So, tonight I’ll be staying at..."
Estelle nodded in affirmation. "Yes, at my home."
And so, Old Mr. Yeats happily went home with Estelle. He even sent a text message to his wife, son, and grandson to brag about it.
[Hehe, I’m staying at Estelle’s house! Eat your hearts out!]
Old Mrs. Yeats stared at her phone. She wondered just how old this husband of hers actually was.
The Family Head furrowed his brows. He reminded himself that this was his biological father and he just had to endure it.
Meanwhile, Quentin Yeats, who was still busy arranging the banquet and forced to stay in a hotel, was left completely speechless.
Back at Imperial Crest, Old Mr. Yeats settled comfortably into the room Estelle had prepared for him. When he turned around, he spotted three little heads peeking from the doorway. He blinked in confusion for a second before it dawned on him. Oh, right! Estelle had three kids.
A wide smile instantly bloomed on Old Mr. Yeats’s face, making him look like a creepy old man trying to kidnap children. "My precious darlings, come here. Come to Great-Grandfather."
Meanwhile, Claire Yeats had instructed the servants to clean the Yeats Villa in Crestfall, then deliberately made herself pant and sweat to pretend she had done all the chores herself. After that, she waited for Old Mr. Yeats to arrive so she could stage an "accidental encounter." However, after waiting for two whole hours, there was still no sign of him.
She thought, "Why hasn’t he come to the Yeats Villa?!"
Third Uncle Yeats sighed. "I told you the old man said he wouldn’t be staying here..."
Third Aunt Yeats complained, "This is all your fault! You didn’t even try to persuade him to come over. You’ve completely wasted our Claire’s time and effort!"
Furious, Claire snapped, "Can you two just shut up?! You’re so annoying!" Panting heavily, she forced herself to calm down. "Is that old coot staying with that peasant?"
It took Third Uncle Yeats a long moment to figure out who she meant by "peasant." She was referring to the true eldest daughter who was about to return to the Yeats Family—the very woman who threatened Claire’s position.
"Go find out who this woman is," Claire said through gritted teeth. "I want her dead out there before she even has a chance to return to the Yeats Family!"
Third Uncle Yeats pulled several strings and finally found out where Old Mr. Yeats had gone. He had gone to see Estelle today. Since Old Mr. Yeats had come specifically for the eldest daughter and went straight to Estelle the moment his plane landed, what did that imply?
Claire’s pupils shrank drastically. Her face was filled with disbelief as her expression crumbled.
"How could it be her?!" she screamed.
She thought, "How is this possible?! It’s that bitch who humiliated me! Why on earth is she the eldest daughter of the Yeats Family? Fine... very well, Estelle. I could have let you live a few more days, but since you’re Eleanor’s daughter, you simply have to die!"
Steadying her emotions, Claire dialed a number on her phone. "Second Brother..."
The next day, Old Mr. Yeats volunteered to take the three kids to kindergarten, while Estelle and Nathaniel Sloan arrived at Evernight International.
Estelle tilted her head. "Are you saying that Evernight International is going to host a design competition, and you want me to be a judge?"
Nathaniel nodded. "The design competition will be completely confidential, held in collaboration with a television station. I don’t want to pass up this opportunity, but I’m short of a designer judge on my end. Mrs. Sloan, are you interested?"
Earlier, Nathaniel had explained the situation to her. Evernight International was expanding into the fashion industry and needed a gimmick. It just so happened that the television station needed a favor from Nathaniel at the same time, so the collaboration was instantly agreed upon.
"Just treat it as something fun. It’s only a small competition," Nathaniel said. "If you’re interested, I can sign you up."
Estelle was indeed quite interested.
Right after she agreed to sign up, a KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK sounded at the office door, followed by Luke White’s voice from the outside.
"Sir, there is a Mr. Yeats downstairs asking for a meeting. He also brought Claire with him."
A Mr. Yeats?
Nathaniel narrowed his eyes slightly. "Quentin?"
Luke replied, "It’s not Young Mr. Yeats. I don’t recognize this Mr. Yeats."