Enchanted Nightfall: Falling for Destiny ( Quintessa and Tyrone ) novel Chapter 221

Cecilia was fuming, flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. It wasn’t typical for a mother to interrupt her son’s feast. But worry had driven her to it, fearing that the person with him was none other than that little vixen. And to her dismay, her suspicions were confirmed.

She shot Quintessa a glare, “You’re making things up. You just got here; it couldn’t have finished so fast.”

Quintessa casually draped an arm over Tyrone’s shoulder, “Oh, but why not? Your son’s always been quick.”

Tyrone, already short on patience, darkened at her words. Quick? He hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet. How could she say he was quick?

Tyrone turned around and his face immediately darkened.

Quintessa was wearing one of his oversized T-shirts, no one knows how she found it so quickly.

The men's clothes hung on her like a dress, making her look even more fragile and petite. She leaned forward, allowing him to look down the collar from his angle, seeing everything at a glance. Her slender and straight legs, as tender as newly sprouted willow branches in early spring.

This version of Quintessa reignited the flame Tyrone’s mom had momentarily doused.

Grinding his teeth, he said, “Who are you calling quick?”

Quintessa flicked her hair, teasing, “You, obviously. Did I say something wrong?”

Cecilia, taken aback, began to wonder.

Circling back to Cecilia, Quintessa chimed, “Auntie, didn’t you say you made something delicious? Let’s go eat.”

Snapping back to reality, Cecilia asserted, “I made it for my son, not for you.”

Quintessa was undeterred and pulled Cecilia towards the kitchen, “Oh, come on, it’s all the same.”

With gritted teeth, Tyrone went to the bathroom for a moment of respite.

Downstairs, Quintessa was playfully arguing with Cecilia while enjoying the barbecue ribs she had prepared. Despite their bickering, Quintessa found Cecilia’s company somewhat refreshing. It was unusual to describe a woman in her fifties as “simple” and “kind,” but Cecilia was just that.

Cecilia’s dislike for Quintessa was genuine, a natural reaction for any mother wary of a “femme fatale” ensnaring her son. Yet, her kindness was unmistakable. She lacked the aloofness and entitlement often found in the affluent; she had treated Quintessa without disdain despite her disapproval. This set her apart from Fiona and Lilian.

For families of wealth like the Yorks, having someone like Cecilia is indeed rare.

This elderly lady is truly endearing.

Quintessa found herself envious of Tyrone for having such a good mother.