The Unveiling of Secret Queen

The palm wound torn by the knife blade was like a ripping, sharp pain. Nathalie Quinlan remained silent, gripping the blade firmly.

Caryn Zachmann reacted, trying forcefully to pull the knife out.

Bright red blood dripped onto the floor, hitting everyone’s heart as if they were struck; everyone was stunned by the scene.

"Nathalie." Mr. Zachmann widened his eyes as his blood pressure soared. Darkness swept over him, and he spat out a mouthful of blood in anxiety.

Caryn Zachmann grew increasingly anxious, more frantic, her face flushed as she threatened, "Nathalie Quinlan, don’t push me."

In a furious attempt, she tried to yank the knife.

At that moment, the girl’s eyes turned cold. With an exceptionally clean and swift spin kick, she sent her flying to the ground.

"Ugh." Caryn Zachmann felt darkness in front of her eyes, her chest ached with suffocating pain, and amid the extreme pain, she spat out a mouthful of blood, nearly losing her front teeth.

Leonardy Zachmann, angered by her incompetence, couldn’t help but exclaim at the sight: "Caryn!"

He seemed ready to step forward.

Audrick Zachmann grabbed him, his face as dark as the soup base, his deep eyes fixed on him, speaking coldly: "Dad, you wouldn’t still defend her at a time like this."

Leonardy Zachmann, under his gaze, felt ashamed to lift his head, his elegant face turned red like liver.

Audrick Zachmann released him, no longer looking at him.

Leonardy Zachmann lacked the courage to move forward, remaining in place, unable to advance or retreat.

After kicking Caryn Zachmann aside, Nathalie Quinlan quickly strode forward to support Mr. Zachmann, soothing his back: "...Grandpa, are you alright?"

Mr. Zachmann could no longer speak, only holding her wrist tightly, myriad words in his reddened eyes.

Nathalie Quinlan understood what he wanted to say, casually glancing at her right hand, comforting him: "I’m fine, don’t worry about me."

She’s always like this, no matter what happens, forever bearing the brunt alone, never complaining of hardship or fatigue.

But the girl’s shoulder was already soaked with blood, her palm still dripping blood; having lost so much blood, how could it not hurt?

Yet it seemed Nathalie Quinlan felt his gaze, subtly moving her right shoulder back, saying to him: "I’ll take you to the hospital for a checkup right away."

Mr. Zachmann burst into tears, heartbroken, wishing for the wound to be on himself, gripping her hand tightly but unable to speak with his dry throat.

...

Meanwhile, Caryn Zachmann slowly caught her breath.

In her blurred vision, she saw the girl supporting the elderly man, preparing to leave.

In panic, Caryn Zachmann glanced around frantically, trying to find something handy to stop them, or she would be finished.

In extreme anxiety and fear, her gaze at the girl changed from intending to gain something to a stubborn resentment and madness.

Just when everyone thought the matter was over.

Caryn Zachmann, previously kicked by Nathalie Quinlan, suddenly stood up fiercely, bent down to grab a chair from the nearby table, charging at the girl.

Shouting as she ran: "Nathalie Quinlan, die!"

"Nathalie!"

"Nathalie Quinlan!"

Hendrik Zachmann cried out in alarm.

Nathalie Quinlan caught a glimpse of Caryn Zachmann charging with the chair raised toward her from the corner of her eye, the chair lifted above her rear head.

Her eyes turned cold, as she calculated how to both protect Mr. Zachmann and deal with the frenzied Caryn Zachmann.

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