True Tycoon Her Empire, Her Rules

At nightfall, the Bryant Manor was quiet, with only a few bedrooms still aglow with the soft luminescence of lamps. 

Winnie sprawled across her pink canopy bed, gazing at the starry ceiling mural that twinkled with a faint glow against the dark, a dreamy sight that brought warmth to the heart. It was a thoughtful touch to comfort a child who might wake in the middle of the night, afraid of the enveloping darkness. 

The room’s decor alone spoke volumes about her parents‘ hopes for Winnie’s arrival. It was a familial love that Winnie had never known, especially not within the Henderson family, where her presence was far from welcome. If anything, they probably wished for her demise, as her death could supposedly bring Kathryn a lifetime of fortune. Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

Winnie closed her eyes, pushing thoughts of the Henderson family aside, and pondered another mystery. Since her arrival at the Bryant family, no one had mentioned her mother. Was she no longer alive, or was there some uncovered secret? 

As she mulled it over, a familiar cry pierced the night, snapping Winnie’s eyes open. Panicked. she leaped from her bed, grabbed her jacket, and rushed to the window, the source of the noise. 

Peering out into the night, she conjured a charm and tossed it into the air, whispering an incantation. “By the clear skies above and the earth below, I summon the gentle breeze of absolution!” 

No sooner had she finished her chant than a gust of wind caught the charm and swept it back toward her. As she plummeted from the third–floor window, the wind cradled her fall, setting her gently on the ground below. 

From a second–floor window, Springer, who was engrossed in a heated gaming battle with his friends, caught a glimpse of something falling from above. Distracted, he turned just in time to see his in–game character get killed. 

“Damn it!” Springer bolted from his chair, frustrated. Recalling who lived upstairs, he stormed to the window, intent on scolding Winnie for littering. Springer was about to retrieve the item to throw it back when seeing a shadow darting through the garden. By the time he focused, it had vanished. 

“What the heck?” Springer thought, squinting into the darkness. That silhouette looked suspiciously like Winnie, that weirdo. When had she slipped downstairs? 

Meanwhile, having sprinted out of Bryant Manor’s gates, Winnie approached a brightly lit three–story villa. As she neared, she heard a commotion inside. 

“Yip, yip!” Another familiar sound hastened her steps. Reaching the villa’s entrance, she saw several guards chasing a small, flexible creature around the garden. One of the guards brandished a baton to strike, but Winnie shouted, “Don’t hurt it! It’s mine!” 

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As she fumbled for another charm, a voice crackled over the guards‘ radios, and the threat subsided. The gate swung open, and as Winnie entered, the creature, a plump white fox with a backpack slung over its fluffy tail, ran toward her, climbing up her leg with plaintive whines. 

Winnie cradled the fox and pondered its strong sense of direction. It shouldn’t have gotten lost. 

Suddenly, a familiar gold aura caught her eye. Standing in the villa’s doorway was none other than the imposing figure of Drake, the devil himself. His presence was even more dazzling by night, and it took Winnie a moment to adjust to the brilliance. 

Holding the fox, she approached, slightly embarrassed. “Mr. Patterson, I apologize. It is my fox. It seems to have come looking for me but got the wrong place.” 

Drake surveyed her hastily donned nightgown and coat and the disheveled fox in her arms. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was cold as he remarked, “It doesn’t seem so.” 

Following his gaze, Winnie saw her fox, Pretty, straining toward Drake, its eyes locked onto his radiating presence. She realized the golden light had lured Pretty there. 

“Pretty!” she warned, tightening her grip. She hadn’t touched the golden allure like that herself and wouldn’t let her pet get there first. 

Having been warned, the little fox finally toned down its fluffed–up fur that seemed eager to pounce toward Drake. Even though it no longer struggled to get closer, its beautiful, sharp eyes remained fixed on Drake, filled with an almost palpable longing. 

Watching the pitiful creature, Winnie instinctively stepped forward. “It just has a thing for pretty people…” she mumbled, half to herself. 

But just as she moved, Drake, standing by the foyer, subtly took a half–step back with one foot. Winnie froze mid–stride, a twitch flickering at the corner of her mouth. Was she being rejected? She glanced down at the little fox in her arms, which had gotten somewhat dirty from its escapades throughout the evening. 

Winnie was sure in her thoughts that it was this little rascal that Drake was snubbing. 

No doubt about it.