Chapter 93


    Quintessa arched an eyebrow, with a yful 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 leadingdy in ‘Shadows of the Past,” Jerome said, “you might


    as well y it to the hilt. At least do justice to Zenobia, who’s caught in the crossfire, thanks to you.”


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


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    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 red.


    “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’te 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 shed 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 rtive 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.