The Killer Queen (Noella Briony)

In his final days, what weighed heavily on the old man's heart was the welfare of his family and children. Staring at the medical reports, Noella felt a pang of sorrow.

Surgery could potentially extend his life, but Sexton refused to endure a treatment that would leave him tethered to machines, unable to maintain clarity in his final moments. The thought of fading away, hooked up to life support, was unbearable to him.

Calvin sighed, "l tried convincing him. If he had agreed to the surgery with you leading it, there might have been a chance... But Sexton, he just wouldn't have it."

Noella felt a lump in her throat. Sexton was worried about burdening the family, disrupting her and Palmer's wedding plans with his hospitalization. It was supposed to be a time of joy and laughter for the Pollack family.

"How could he bear to fall now?" she thought.

"Grandpa Sexton's chance of success with the surgery is only thirty percent. Afterward, he might lose consciousness, requiring constant care.” Noella explained.

"He doesn't want to end up like that,” Calvin agreed.

Sexton, a venerable man with a head of silver hair, wished to leave this world on his own terms.

Noella understood Sexton's feelings.

When Marcel called to inquire about Sexton's condition, a heavy silence fell after she explained the situation. Eventually, Marcel let out a deep sigh. "At his age, it's a blessing not to suffer too much," he said. "I'll keep an eye on things at the hospital, grandpa. Take care of yourself."

Marcel, having shared a lifetime of friendship and battles with Sexton, was undoubtedly heartbroken.

"Grandpa knows what's best."

After hanging up, Marcel sat in his rocking chair, holding a chess piece that he couldn't bring himself to move. He muttered to himself, "Sexton, I'll let vou take back that move. Make sure you come back."

The chessboard remained untouched, a solitary yellow leaf falling upon it

At the Schnabel Hotel, the lobby was ablaze with lights, exuding opulence. A woman in high heels and sunglasses strutted in, arm in arm with a middle-aged man, her face full of disdain

"Where's your manager? Get him here!" she demanded.

"Our manager is unavailable at the moment. How may I assist you?" the receptionist asked politely.

"Then get Linnea Schnabel. She should have some say here, right?"

The receptionist hesitated before calling Linnea down

Upon seeing the woman, Linnea exclaimed, "Oriana? What's this..."

The man beside Criana was clearly in his fifties, and the child with them bore a striking resemblance to him, no doubt his son.

Linnea was shocked. "In this day and age, sugar babies come with kids to the party?"

Criana removed her sunglasses, affectionately clinging to the rotund arm of the middle-aged man. "Darling, this is my dear friend Linnea.”

"What's this? She's worthy of being your friend?” The man's eyes cozed sleaze. "She's not bad-locking. Say the right words, and I might let you two reunite..."

Before he could finish, a knife flew out of nowhere, nicking his hand and drawing blood "Damn it!" he cursed, as the sound of a high heel tapping the floor echoed with a chilly undertone.

Noglla's calm voice filled the air: "Call the police."

"You want to call the police? I should be the one catfing! Do you know who I am? Noene in Imperial City dares ™ to cross me," the man blustered, believing his own hype about being a tycoan, a linchpin in Imperial City's elite circles. =

Linnea knew Oriana well enough to suspect that the pair had deluded each other about their wealth, a couple of con artists in a mutual scam. Noella was curious. "Didn't you check whose hotel this is before making a scene?" The massive logo of the Schnabel Group was unmissable at the entrance, a clear sign of the establishment's ownership.

The man puffed up, arrogantly claiming, "I'm brothers-in-arms with Tristan Beckett, head of the Schnabel Group. You think I can't come to a Schnabel family hotel?"Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Noella, puzzled, wondered when Tristan had acquired such a brother.

Misinterpreting Noella's silence for intimidation, th man sneered, "Are you the pergon in charge? Here's N how it'll gos upgrade me toa VIP C e J Ss pensate me with three

+

Sui mil ior-dollars for the trouble. Otherwise, if this reaches Tristan,

you'll regret it. It's hard fora young lady out here, so considéef the three million a favor."

Noella remained silent for a moment. If it weren't for the old-timers from Polaris Star coming to Imperial City and planning to stay at her hotel, she wouldn't have encountered such a spectacle.

"Pity. only three million for extortion. Even Vincent had a bigger appetite.” Linnea nodded in agreement. "Right, Mr. Schnabel. I'll call the police now."

Seeing their intent to proceed with the call, the man's demeanor turned menacing. "Can't you understand? Calling the police won't do you any good I'm the victim here. Do you really want to end up in jail?"

Linnea rolled ker eyes in disgust. "Our hotel lobby is under constant surveillance; you know. What you did was dowaright harassment. Plus; you've got no proof who poked you. For aflyou know, it could've been divine intervention setting you straight.” fo

The middle-aged man was taken aback!

Indeed. no one had seen where that little knife had come from!

"Don't think you've got me cornered. I'm calling Tristan Beckett right this second. We'll see who's begging for mercy in a minute!” Noella's gaze was icy cold.

"Go ahead."

Criana suddenly clung to the man named Dan, "Dan, aren't you buddies with Mr. Schnabel? Let Mr. Schnabel sort this out for you!" Linnea looked at Oriana as if she was a complete idiot.

She knew full well that Tristan was Noella's father. Why would she encourage this buffoon Dan to call Tristan?

Little did Linnea know, Dan had made his fortune in pyramid schemes.

Criana was utterly convinced that Dan was a big shot, even bigger than the Schnabel family in high society!

Seeing Noella's calm demeanor, Dan snorted.

"Should I really make the call? There's still time to apologize!”

Noglla flicked her fingers, and someone immediately rolled in a chair and served up some coffee.

"Call, make as many calls as you want. If you don't, I will."