Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny

Quintessa arched an eyebrow, with a playful smirk gracing her lips. “Of course I’m different. I’m even more stunning than I was three years ago, more enchanting. Otherwise, how could I keep you so hopelessly captivated?”

Jerome had to concede, “You’ve got a point.”

–

Indeed hopelessly captivated. So much so that despite knowing she was scheming against him, he still covered for her and kept her return a secret.

Lately, Jerome had been at his wit’s end over Zenobia’s drama, feeling like his head was about to explode. Yet, he hadn’t even considered throwing Quintessa under the bus.

Part of the reason was just as Quintessa said he had his pride. But another reason was that he was curious to see just how far she would go.

“Since you’ve taken on the role of the leading lady in ‘Shadows of the Past,” Jerome said, “you might as well play it to the hilt. At least do justice to Zenobia, who’s caught in the crossfire, thanks to you.” Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

At the end of the day, Jerome still felt that Quintessa’s framing was unfair to Zenobia.

Quintessa scoffed with disdain, “Oh please, as if you were the one who handed me the role. It was mine to begin with. I’m just taking back what’s mine. Why should I thank you? Zenobia caught in the crossfire? Please. It’s as if you two were ever so innocent, as if you’ve never toyed with her.”

Jerome glared.

“I’ve got things to do, I’m out of here. Oh, and I’d advise you not to stir up another one. What’s mine is mine, and no one can take that from me. Otherwise, they’ll find out just how fierce my bite can be.”

Watching Quintessa’s retreating figure, Jerome had his eyes narrowed. There was a wild allure about her that was maddeningly irresistible, and in that moment, he felt utterly defenseless against her charm.

If it weren’t for the public setting, he might have taken her right then and there.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Jerome called out leisurely, “I didn’t come to see Zenobia. I came for your sister. She attempted suicide.”

Zenobia had been through a rough patch, and Jerome, who had grown to detest Miranda, was resolute on breaking up with her. But Miranda wouldn’t have it. She had slashed her wrists yesterday – not truly to die, but to frighten him. Yet, the wound was real enough.

Quintessa was overjoyed upon hearing this.

Who knew that this chain reaction would lead to Miranda’s suicide attempt?

“Wow, no wonder I’ve been in such a great mood today. Did she die?”

“No.”

“What a pity.”

Her words were genuine; if Miranda were dead, it would save Quintessa the trouble.

“She’s in room 501,” Jerome said before walking away.

Manny asked, “Shall we go?”

“Not yet,” Quintessa responded. “I have something to take care of first.”

“What’s that?”

“Go find that relative of yours and get me some sleeping pills.”

“Uh.”

Room 501 was empty, and the patient was seemingly asleep.

As Quintessa moved to enter, Manny, pale as a ghost, grabbed her arm. “Quinn, this isn’t right. Should we really be doing this?”

“It’s not right,” Quintessa stopped short. “Let’s get some potassium chloride instead.”

Manny instantly objected, “Maybe we should stick to the sleeping pills.”

Quintessa pushed the door open and entered. On the bed, Miranda looked pale, with an IV drip attached to her arm, her wrist wrapped in thick bandages.

Quintessa pulled out a disposable syringe filled with a slightly murky liquid.

She crushed the sleeping pills, diluted them with a bit of glucose, and drew the solution into the syringe.

With the needle piercing the IV line, Quintessa pushed the sedative into the drip.