Outcast Queen: Her Return from Hell novel Chapter 35

"Mr. Alistair Prescott has arrived!"

An announcement brought a sudden hush over the room.

All eyes snapped toward the entrance.

The true helmsman of the Prescott family, Alistair, walked in slowly. He was robust and carried an imposing presence, leaning on a jade-inlaid cane while being supported by his eldest son, Julian.

The crowd instinctively parted to create a path, their reverent gazes weaving into an invisible web.

"Alistair!" Phoebe immediately broke into a sweet smile and hurried over, reaching out to hook her arm through Alistair's.

However, Alistair merely cast a cold side-eye at her outstretched hand. He shifted his body slightly, a crystal-clear gesture of evasion, and asked in a deep voice, "Where is Phoenix?"

Phoebe's hand froze awkwardly in mid-air. Her face flushed red and white as the resentment in her heart nearly spilled over. It was happening again! She worked so hard to please him, yet the old man only ever had eyes for that wild child!

Julian discreetly cleared his throat, shooting Phoebe a subtle, comforting look.

"Phoenix..." Phoebe steadied her breathing, keeping her voice very soft with a hint of manufactured distress. "She might not be ready to come down yet. She has been coming home in the middle of the night lately..."

Her trailing words left plenty to the imagination.

"Silence!" Alistair slammed his cane against the floor. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried thunderous authority. "What kind of occasion is this? Stop sprouting nonsense!"

"I am sorry, Alistair..." Phoebe immediately lowered her head, squeezing out fake tears.

"Alistair, Phoebe is just acting out of concern," Julian quickly spoke up to defend her. His eyes, however, swept toward the area where Phoenix had yet to appear, deliberately adding fuel to the fire. "Phoenix is indeed a bit erratic. She started messing around outside the moment she got back. Who knows what kind of shady characters she is mixing with? What if she causes another..."

"Julian!" Alistair snapped his head around, his gaze shooting toward his eldest son like cold lightning. "Phoenix is your sister! Your own flesh and blood!!"

Julian's heart leaped under the intense stare. He instinctively avoided Alistair's gaze, but his words remained stubborn. "So what if she is blood? If she cannot bring honor to the family and might even bring shame..."

He despised his sister's existence, seeing her as nothing more than a stain.

"Oh?"

A clear, cold scoff, devoid of identifiable emotion, rippled outward like a stone dropped into a still lake.

All conversations, and even breathing, were instantly cut off by an invisible hand.

A silent pulse drew every eye toward the main entrance of the hall.

"Ignore him, Phoenix!" Alistair unhesitatingly shook off Julian's supporting hand, even showing a trace of subtle disgust.

He took a grand stride forward, his time-worn face displaying undisguised affection and joy as he firmly grasped Phoenix's arm.

"You are the star tonight! Come, up on the stage with me!" His loud, powerful voice instantly echoed through the silent hall.

The grandfather and granddaughter completely ignored Julian and Phoebe, who were left standing there with extremely ugly expressions. Arm in arm, they walked step by step into the spotlight at the very center of the banquet hall under countless scrutinizing stares.

Whoosh—

After a brief silence, low whispers exploded across the room!

Everyone's eyes were filled with shock, curiosity, and a complex re-evaluation!

"So this is the real deal?"

"My god! That aura... This true heiress leaves the second daughter miles in the dust!"

"No wonder the old man plays favorites! That is true aristocratic poise! Anyone with eyes would favor her!"