The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1759

After all, with photos, anything could be spun. The more popular Tobias became, the more traffic Chance could bring. Posting those photos online to slander Tobias would not only generate buzz but also bring in money!

Chance didn't mind that this was a trap set by Luna, nor did he care about the kind of relationship she and Tobias really had. After all, the relationships between men and women were endless in the entertainment industry. The key point was that Tobias could bring views!

Muttering to himself, he planned aloud, "But just these shots aren't enough to stir interest. I need to get inside for more. First, I'll head back to the office and post a teaser. 'Top Star Caught on Late-Night Date with Rising Actress.' Yes, that's perfect!"

Feeling confident, he was about to get out of his car when someone tapped on his window.

Chance froze instantly. Paparazzi always worked stealthily. He'd have to pack up and leave if he was caught by the crew.

He stayed still as he tried to pretend that he wasn't there, but the shadow outside the window was persistent. Helpless, he rolled down the window, relieved to see an unfamiliar face. "What do you want?"

The man outside spread his hands and said calmly, "Hand over the camera. Otherwise, you're not going anywhere."

The speaker was Crow. Behind him stood Dalton, his refined features and dignified demeanor making him look like he had stepped out of a painting. His presence was so striking that Chance froze for a moment, mistaking him for a new actor.

Smiling, Chance pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and addressed Crow. "Buddy, you must be his assistant, right? You guys look like newcomers. Why not talk it over with him? I'm here for Tobias. Once he's trending, I'll even toss your guy into the buzz. Newcomers could use some heat, right?"

Crow opened his mouth to speak, but Chance suddenly raised his voice to address Dalton. "Hey, man, you need to have some connections in the media if you want to get famous! Come, have a smoke. We're all friends here!"

Chance was skilled at manipulation. Those words might tempt some people. Unfortunately for him, he was dealing with Dalton.

Dalton glanced at him briefly, his long legs and tailored black trench coat lending him the air of an indomitable pine tree on a winter night. Against the descending snow, his presence was strikingly regal.

Chance couldn't help but murmur, "I'll make you a star, I swear."

Dalton arched his lips slightly, almost smiling, but his expression lacked warmth. Lighting a cigarette with practiced ease, he tapped the cigarette holder twice and finally spoke. "Take care of him."

He was addressing Crow.

Chance was still clueless about what this meant. Before he could process it, Crow raised a hand, and suddenly, Chance found himself frozen in place, unable to move. Even the softly falling snow seemed suspended in midair.

Crow murmured, "How could the paparazzi even know about a crew's private gathering?"

For all his years of existence, he still didn't quite understand human deceit. Without hesitation, he swiftly dismantled Chance's car door, retrieved the camera, and handed it to Dalton.

Dalton glanced at the camera briefly before erasing all the photos with a few taps.

Crow remained standing there as he reported, "My Lord, I did as you instructed and circled the area. Mr. Quinnell is indeed being monitored, but the entity hasn't revealed itself yet.

"I can't pinpoint its exact location. It seems it hasn't been here long, given that the Heaven's Resentment Formation hasn't formed fully yet.

"However, this is a film set—a breeding ground for ambition and desire. I've observed many people here. Their cravings for fame and success are overwhelming. It's the perfect nourishment for that entity.

"It must have collected a generous amount of soul fragments by now. If Mr. Quinnell made a wish to it… that would complicate things."

The wooden doll was a product from Foplya. Usually, it wouldn't be much trouble for Crow. But such malevolent spirits, who were once offered tributes, were hard to banish without risking harm to the contracted soul fragments.

If Tobias had made a wish, a negotiation would be necessary. However, the possibility of Dalton negotiating was close to none.

…

The night grew darker. Inside the restaurant, the private room was filled with an inexplicable sense of eeriness despite it being lit.

On the other side was a makeshift break room for the crew. Occasionally, someone would go in to touch up their makeup. From within, a faint voice could be heard.

"You have to pay the corresponding price if you want something. I must use this opportunity to rise back to fame.

"They call her a veteran actress, but really, she's just older. No one wants to see her wrinkled old face anymore. How dare she coach me on acting? I'll do whatever it takes to surpass her in popularity.

"It's not that I didn't dare to approach him before. I just didn't have the chance. But soon, I will."

The voice rang out continuously.

A makeup artist, Jocelyn Shelley, who had only come in to grab some tools, froze in place. She dared not make a sound, for she had just witnessed something she would never forget for the rest of her life.

There was no one else in the room. Only Luna stood there, holding something unrecognizable in her hand and speaking to her reflection in the mirror. Her voice would change every so often, as if someone—or something—other than her was present.

Then, Luna began brushing her hair, stroke after stroke. It was a simple action, one that should have been mundane. But somehow, the way she did it felt wrong. Her movements were rigid and mechanical, as though she were a marionette pulled by strings.

Jocelyn instinctively covered her mouth, backing out of the room as quietly as she could. Her face was pale as she fled toward the more crowded area of the set. Her first thought was to find the director.

"Mr. Rickey! There's something wrong with Ms. Wreyn! I saw... I saw her in there…"

The director, a burly man called Rickey Lynn, was preoccupied with the crew dinner he had planned. He didn't seem to care much until he caught the panic in Jocelyn's voice.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked, his tone low.

Jocelyn still hadn't caught on to the disaster that was looming. She trembled and stammered, "She was brushing her hair, but—but it wasn't right. It's like… she—she seemed to be possessed!"

Rickey frowned. "Jocelyn, you shouldn't speak recklessly. We're at a critical stage of filming. There hasn't been a single bad take, and you're talking about possession? It's the modern age. How could such nonsense exist?"

"It's true!" Jocelyn, desperate to be believed, insisted he call everyone together to see for themselves.

Just then, a soft laugh came from behind her. "Possessed? Me?"

Jocelyn turned slowly, her fear mounting. She had never feared a face before. She stumbled backward when she saw Luna. "M-Mr. Rickey, she..."

"From the looks of it, you seem to be the one who has a problem, Jocelyn."

Rickey suddenly started smiling, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. His movements, on closer inspection, had become unnaturally stiff, as though he too had become a puppet on strings.

Jocelyn's eyes widened in horror as she suddenly recalled the scene she had just witnessed in the makeup room. Luna had moved the same way.

Her breath quickened, panic surging through her veins. She stumbled back, desperate to escape, only to bump into someone.

It was another actress, a minor star from the lower rungs of fame. Earlier that afternoon, it was Jocelyn who had done her touch-up. But now, as she looked at the woman, her movements also seemed marionette-like.

Eric, of course, refused to budge.

Even Isaiah sighed and leaned closer to mutter, "Eric, you might as well hand the chamber back to the Quinnell family."

Eric felt his blood boil at his allies' idiocy. Clenching his teeth to maintain his composure, he forced himself to remain calm.

Feigning magnanimity, he said, "I was only following the fortune reading provided by Mr. Uselton. As an outsider to these practices, I could only rely on the experts. Now that Mr. Stavius and Mr. Nocturne have spoken, I'm willing to prioritize the chamber's wellbeing over my personal losses.

"Although the Quinnell family had little involvement in the chamber's development over the years, I won't hold onto what doesn't belong to me."

"Oh? Are you referring to the development involving your dealings with foreign traders?" Wynter continued, still smiling.

"Rest assured, Mr. Lofstedt, the chamber has no intention of retaining anything from those gray areas. You're welcome to take them with you when you leave. The chamber doesn't deal in such matters."

Eric's forced composure cracked. Wynter was relentless.

"Wynter, there's been a lot of misunderstanding between us. I don't want to dwell on it, but it's unfair to use our predecessors' wishes to pressure me. I came up through the ranks with them. They wouldn't disapprove of me."

"Is that so?" Wynter's expression brightened as if she had just received the perfect opportunity.

Tilting her head slightly, she said, "When you step down, I'll have Mr. Stavius perform a soul-summoning spell. Everyone can join, and we'll all see exactly how they feel about these past few years."

Since Eric loved playing the victim, it'd be an insult to his acting skills if she didn't crush him today.

What mattered most, however, was ensuring Tobias' safety. Lowering her gaze, she glanced at her phone once more. Instead of replying to Jacqueline, she tapped on Dalton's profile picture in her messaging app.

She texted, "How are things on your end? Did you keep Tobias safe?"

The message was sent, but no immediate reply came.

As Wynter did this, the atmosphere in the banquet hall shifted dramatically from moments before.

Some of the chamber's elder members were visibly excited, eager to witness a reunion with the spirits of their predecessors who had once guided them. Meanwhile, newer members looked skeptical, struggling to believe that such a thing—summoning the dead—could be real.

Only Eric's expression darkened further with each passing second.

Wynter didn't spare him any courtesy. She walked right up to him, her every step calm and deliberate. With impeccable politeness, she said, "Go on."

The more composed she appeared, the more Eric felt as though his years of scheming were nothing but a cruel joke.

He narrowed his eyes and thought that Wynter could laugh all she wanted. After all, by now, Tobias would be beyond saving.

…

The sound of a creaking door broke the silence as the private dining room's door swung open. Tobias hadn't expected the person who stepped in to be Luna. Moreover, Rickey wasn't there yet.

Luna looked at Tobias, her face adorned with a practiced smile as she spoke softly. "Mr. Quinnell, the director is on his way. Why don't you take a seat first?"