Chapter 22
Quinlyn remembered that cold gaze she’d caught through the rain and mist just moments ago.
Now, secing Yasin before her, she thought, ‘It’s not always what you think when you see something nice from afar. In the distance, a hottie, but up close, a goblin.’
Quinlyn deftly snatched Yasin’s phone, forcefully grabbed his hand to unlock it with his fingerprint, and then swiftly added
cach other as contacts.
Yasin saw it and let out a soft, knowing chuckle, as if to say, “See? I knew you wanted my number.”
Quinlyn’s eyebrow twitched in irritation, but she brushed off Yasin’s teasing. Without ceremony, she transferred a hefty sum. “That should cover the ride and your waiting time. More than enough,” she said.
Yasin glanced at the payment. “Hmm, that’s pretty generous,” he remarked, his tone fully approving.
Quinlyn said, “Of course, I’ve got my own savings now.”
“So, how much did you win?” Yasin asked, his tone making it clear he already knew she had won.
Quinlyn pretended to be secretive as she opened her mobile banking app for Yasin, though there was nothing to hide. After all, as fellow “side characters” in this story, they were colleagues in every sense.
Yasin looked it over. A faint smirk played on his lips as he thought, ‘It’s indeed a hefty sum
Quinlyn reveled in her newfound wealth, already planning where to invest it. It was her future nest egg for when she finally escaped fate. But after a couple of minutes of celebrating, a sudden thought struck her.
She wondered, ‘Why was Yasin so convinced that I’d hit the jackpot?
Quinlyn sat up sharply and said hesitantly, “Why…”
Yasin hummed softly, his body relaxed. The faint smell of tobacco mixed with his clean, subtle scent. It slowly filled the confined space in the car.
“Why were you so sure that I’d hit the jackpot?” Quinlyn asked, surprised.
“I believe you,” Yasin replied.
“Why?” Quinlyn asked.
Yasin arched a brow and asked, “What do you think?”
His eyes were deep as night, fixed steadily on Quinlyn. Outside the car, torrential rain poured down, shrouding the world in darkness.
His naturally cold, sharp features exuded an effortless sense of pressure as he stared at her.
Yet, beneath that intense gaze, Quinlyn felt her racing heart gradually settle.
Quinlyn didn’t shy away. After a moment, she grinned and said, “Maybe you think I’m some kind of lottery genius.” She paused and then pointed at Yasin. “You were right about that.”
Yasin was momentarily stunned by her playful antics.
Quinlyn was beaming with joy, absorbed in her phone as she managed her newfound assets. She was browsing real estate listings. After all, for any time traveler, buying property would always be a top priority.
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Chapter 22
Yasin finally snapped out of it, shaking his head with wry amusement at the scene.
Quinlyn kept fiddling with her phone, but she still replied, “You know the song? ‘Don’t tell me your secrets. I don’t want to
know.’
“I won’t pry into why you’re getting close to me, and you don’t dig into my business. Doesn’t that sound like a pretty good deal?” Her words were so clear and convincing that no one could disagree.
Yasin instinctively raised his hand to run his fingers through his hair, but he let it drop midway. ‘Yeah, he thought, I’ve got a secret, and I’m not going to you.’
Timothy returned fairly quickly. Quinlyn put down her phone, and without being asked, she began tending to Yasin’s wounds.
Once the wound was dressed, Quinlyn announced that she was heading back to the Guzman residence.
“Are you really going back?” Yasin asked, his mind replaying everything he’d witnessed today. He didn’t approve of her decision to return now.
Quinlyn nodded. “Yeah,” she said with a grin.
‘If I don’t go back, how else am I supposed to advance the plot?’ she thought.
Timothy muttered from the front seat, “Ms. Guzman, if you go back now, you’re walking into a melodrama-love, tears, and rain. Everything’s set for the perfect scene.”
Quinlyn’s eyes curved with a playful smile. “Oh really? I can’t wait,” she said, already envisioning how she’d turn the tables.
Timothy was utterly speechless.
Yasin nodded in agreement. “Can’t wait to see it either,” he said.
Timothy couldn’t help thinking, Just a few minutes away, and I’m already out of the loop. I’m not Mr. James’ go-to guy
anymore.’
On that rainy night, although the car wasn’t driving particularly fast, it still reached the Guzman residence in just ten minutes.
Quinlyn peered through the car window at the brightly lit Guzman residence. Every light was on, so everyone must be home. Feeling reassured, she turned to Yasin and said, “Thanks for the umbrella. I’ll return it next time we meet.”
Yasin chuckled softly in the car, a low, husky laugh that sounded almost flirtatious, effortlessly charming. “Already planning our next meeting, huh?” he murmured. “Smooth move. Classic. I like it.”
Quinlyn snapped out of her daze, jolted awake by that dangerously smooth laugh that could make anyone weak in the knees. With a mock-serious tone, she shot back, “Cut it with the cheesy pickup lines, or you’ll end up alone at eighty.”
Timothy snorted, unable to hold back.
As Yasin coughed in the backseat, Timothy immediately straightened up. “Mr. James, don’t listen to her nonsense. She’s just a naive little girl. What does she know, anyway?”
“Shut up,” Yasin cut in flatly.
“Well, he told me to shut up three times tonight, each time with a different tone, Timothy thought.
Timothy started the car and was about to leave when Yasin called out from the backseat to stop him.
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“Mr. James, aren’t we leaving?” Timothy asked.
“I’m waiting for Quinlyn on this rainy night,” Yasin replied.
However, Yasin wouldn’t see Quinlyn come out of the house.
When Quinlyn stepped into the house, she scanned the room with a quick glance. Seeing that no one approached her for a talk and realizing there was no scene for her to play out, she calmly headed upstairs.
Quinlyn was still quite curious. She could understand the Guzman family’s restraint, but strangely, the Chappell family, who were practically foaming at the mouth to get at her, didn’t take action, either.
Unbeknownst to Quinlyn, Beatrice had indeed cooked up all sorts of dirty tricks, but Graham shut her down.
The Fletcher family’s invitation was due any day now. At this critical moment, Graham couldn’t let anything happen to Quinlyn. He couldn’t risk all their efforts going to waste.
Beatrice was fuming, her teeth practically grinding. She had planned to leave soon, but seeing how things were unfolding, she found that it was simply unacceptable. She had to scheme something up for her daughter.
Others might be a mystery to Beatrice, but she knew Quinlyn inside out. She believed Quinlyn had her eyes on Yalena’s man, just playing coy for now.
That night, Yalena received a small package. Her hands trembled as she declined, the audio recording still playing in her pocket.
Once Beatrice left, Yalena quietly saved the recording to her phone. Just before closing the door, she shot a glance at Quinlyn’s room. The innocence in her eyes was gone, replaced only by loathing.
Beatrice was relentless. She’d stop at nothing to get her way. Now that Yalena had refused, she’d simply bide her time and slip the package into Yalena’s luggage when the opportunity arose.
‘That’ll be the trigger then, Beatrice thought. She knew her daughter wasn’t the type to be pushed around. It was in her blood, just like herself, never content with an ordinary life.
Unaware of all the scheming, Quinlyn returned to her room and pulled back the curtains. She saw Yasin waiting downstairs, like a classic romantic lead from a TV drama.
Quinlyn chuckled softly and thought to herself, ‘What’s with the big show, Mr. James?’
A moment later, Yasin’s phone buzzed with a message from Quinlyn. [The show’s canceled tonight, and all the actors are off duty. Looks like your scene got cut, Mr. James.]
Then, she quietly changed his contact name to “Cheesy Yasin.”
