The Killer Queen by Noella Briony

Chapter 142

Yvonne was at her wit’s end!

Her looks and upbringing were all superior to Noella’s. Yvonne had been received top–notch education since she was in diapers, so how on earth was Noella, that backwoods bumpkin, outshining her?

Staring at her phone, she could see the marketing teams under Stirling’s command were practically rocketing Noella’s artwork to the stars!

Yvonne felt a pang of heartache so acute it was as if her heart was bleeding. Her gaze shifted to Ashlyn, whose breathing was fragile and weak, and a wave of self–pity washed over her.

Why should Noella be out there living it up while she was stuck in this sterile hospital, keeping company with an old woman who was more dead than alive?

Now that Ashlyn had divorced Marcel, the title of being related to her meant nothing to Yvonne anymore. With a look of cold indifference, Yvonne stood up from beside Ashlyn’s ICU bed and walked out without a backward glance.

She was expected to stay here with this old woman while the Schnabel family was ready to ship her off to Gerastor, never to return? Fat chance!

Yvonne called Walden once again, “Walden, let’s revisit our last conversation, shall we? I assure you, there won’t be any slip–ups this time!”

“Find yourself somewhere to stay. I’ll get back to you,” Walden said, ready to hang up, but Yvonne quickly added, “I’m…out of money.”

“You’re the daughter of the Schnabel family, and you don’t even have enough to cover a hotel stay? Fine, I’ll transfer some to you.”

Walden frowned, his eyes filled with disdain and revulsion. To think a daughter of the Schnabel family had fallen this low; clearly, her brains were just for show.

After the call, Yvonne glanced at her account balance, freshly padded with funds, and left the hospital without a second look.

Meanwhile, Noella was collaborating with Master Killian on a painting, and word had already spread throughout the industry.

When Annie handed Palmer the phone, he was in the midst of a merger meeting, calculating financial risks with his partners, all of whom were on the edge of their seats. Suddenly, they saw their stone–faced, iron–willed boss break into a smile – a tender, adoring smile that seemed to melt in the warmth of his gaze. A chill ran down the spines of everyone present.

After Annie explained that the boss’s fiancée, Noella Schnabel of the Schnabel family, was a direct mentee of Master Killian, it all made sense.

Chapter 142

No wonder their boss showed such a gentle side when it came to Noella. A socialite as talented as her was bound to be Palmer’s pride and joy.

The partners began to whisper among themselves,

Schnabel’s birthday live stream; the Schnabels certainly dote on their daughter.”

kid was that

in Imperial City didn’t know about it,

watching Noella in the video, thought she looked just as lovely painting. Her arm

“Save the video,”

in person, he wanted to savor the sight of

from

meeting – albeit at a noticeably faster pace. It was clear to all that the boss was eager to

asset evaluation was done in half an hour. Palmer, signing documents,

Ms. Noella hasn’t left

the partners looked up, Palmer’s silhouette had already vanished from the conference room!

wrapped up

venue, many hoping to interview Noella, but Stirling, the super–popular star and first–ever grand slam best actor winner, gracefully deflected them. His mere smile satisfied the eager cameras.

flurry, Beckett saw the

patted Noella’s hand, “Noella, you’ve done well. But don’t overdo it; you’re the youngest of our family. There’s no need

If the gallery

11:22

Chapter 142

to protect his precious daughter, but found she’d managed everything perfectly.

I’m not

lingered

we possibly join the gallery? We’re here to

study Master Killian’s work would be enough. We don’t

glanced at the group of

you’re a good fit, I’ll invite you through

not the kind of boss who exploited

them

today’s exhibition was a smashing success. Your collaboration piece with Master Killian is now hanging

for your hard work.”

gown for a sharp business suit. Tying her misty locks into a tight bun, she exuded an authoritative

in red ink by someone, each followed by

sticky note with a cartoon