Wrong Flirt, Right Trouble: His Uncle Pulls Me Close

Just listening to the words made Joy Sheridan tremble uncontrollably.

How could someone as glamorous as her possibly live like a rat?

She could already picture it. If she were trapped here for the rest of her life, unable to wear pretty clothes or makeup, forced to eat this slop not even fit for an animal... she’d rather be dead.

"No... No... Quentin Blackwood, you promised to marry me! You clearly promised when Grandfather was dying!"

Joy Sheridan saw Quentin Blackwood as her only lifeline.

"It was just a promise. Do you really believe in all that nonsense about spirits watching from heaven? If I don’t marry you, will your grandfather’s spirit really appear and strike me down with lightning? If so, I’ll be waiting."

"Quentin Blackwood! My grandfather died saving you! Do you really not have a heart?" Joy Sheridan’s eyes were red-rimmed as she roared, the veins on her neck bulging.

"Did your grandfather die saving me, or did you get him killed? Joy Sheridan, are you still unwilling to admit it, even now?"

Quentin Blackwood’s words seemed to strike a nerve. Joy Sheridan dropped to her knees. "It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me... I really didn’t kill Grandfather."

Quentin Blackwood waved his hand, and his men released Joy Sheridan.

A look of delighted surprise crossed Joy Sheridan’s face. She quickly wiped her tears. "Quentin, are you taking me away from here? You do still have feelings for me, don’t you? I knew it. I knew you came to save me."

"Quentin, let’s go home. I want to go home." Joy Sheridan assumed Quentin Blackwood was taking her home, and she clung to that dream all the way onto the plane.

She felt as if she hadn’t seen sunlight in ages. The weather wasn’t actually that great, but for Joy Sheridan, it was more than enough.

The world outside seemed bustling with excitement. It looked like the New Year had passed.

For the first time in a long while, she realized how wonderful the outside world was, how pleasant it felt. It wasn’t the salty, humid stench she had grown used to.

But people kept giving her strange looks, filled with what looked like disgust. They all seemed to look down on her. She grew insecure and paranoid, feeling that anyone who glanced her way was judging her. ’Those people are whispering... are they talking about me?’

Joy Sheridan couldn’t take it anymore. After they disembarked, she saw someone look at her, then turn to whisper to their companion. ’They’re definitely talking about me!’

’I’m the heiress of the Sheridan Family! I’m glamorous and beautiful! Everyone envies me!’

Joy Sheridan charged over, grabbed one of the people who had been talking, and slapped them across the face. "How dare you talk about me behind my back! Do you have any idea who I am? I’m the princess of the Sheridan Family! The renowned Sheridan Group is my company!"

"What the hell? Are you insane?" the person she’d slapped yelled back. "What Sheridan Family? Where did this beggar come from?"

"I’m not a beggar, I’m Joy Sheridan!" Joy was on the verge of a breakdown.

The person seemed to recall the name. "Joy Sheridan? You mean the Joy Sheridan who was so scared she pissed herself? How do you have the nerve to show your face in public? Losing control of your bladder like that... Have you even seen the video? And you call yourself an heiress. How humiliating."

The memory of that incident flooded back to Joy Sheridan. Their words stung more than any slap. She began to roar and scream like a madwoman.

"That wasn’t me! It wasn’t me! I’ll kill you!"

Joy Sheridan tried to lunge forward again, but Quentin Blackwood’s men pulled her back and forced her into a car.

Joy Sheridan couldn’t stop crying. She didn’t understand how things had come to this. She used to have a perfect life—she was rich, beautiful, had a grandfather who adored her, countless assets, and lived a life where everyone doted on her.

But now? Now, it seemed she had nothing. Her grandfather was gone, her shares were gone, everything was gone.

And to make matters worse, that video of her was online. She couldn’t even imagine what people were saying about her behind her back.

’They must be mocking me, thinking I’m a total disgrace.’

Joy Sheridan thought Quentin Blackwood was taking her home. She never expected him to have his men dump her in a cemetery.

The force of the push sent Joy Sheridan stumbling to the ground, her hands landing on a tombstone to break her fall.

"Quentin, why did you bring me here?" Joy Sheridan asked, bewildered.

"Say it. In front of your grandfather," Quentin Blackwood’s voice was ice-cold, sending shivers down Joy’s spine. "Tell him you never hurt him. Tell him the shooting had nothing to do with you. That you weren’t the one who got him killed."

Before her eyes was a black-and-white photograph. It was her grandfather.

In the photo, her grandfather was smiling benevolently. He looked so young.

Joy Sheridan couldn’t bring herself to say a word. Seeing her grandfather’s face, she could only think of how good he had been to her. ’I regret it. I truly regret it. Can Grandfather come back? Can he comfort me and spoil me just like he used to?’

"Old Master Sheridan always felt he had let you down. Even though he gave you the very best of everything, he still felt his love wasn’t enough because it wasn’t the love of a parent. You were the one person in this world he never wronged, and you know just how much he loved you. Even when he was ill, he forced himself to work, just so he could protect the Sheridan Group for you. He was a man who loved you that much, Joy. How could you have been so ruthless?"

Joy Sheridan could no longer bear it and broke down, sobbing loudly.

’I was wrong, I really was. Grandfather, please come back.’

"Joy, back during the shooting, you’d already planned it all out, hadn’t you? You traded your grandfather’s life for a promise that I would marry you. When the shots were fired, Old Master Sheridan knew you had arranged it. That’s why he threw himself in front of me without a second thought. Isn’t that right?"

"And the poisoning before that... that was you too, wasn’t it? You conspired with those shareholders, put your own grandfather’s life on the line, just to force me to return from Lustre. Joy, when you sleep at night, does he never visit you in your dreams? Do you truly feel not a single shred of guilt?"

"Stop it... I’m begging you, please stop..." Joy Sheridan shrieked, clutching the tombstone tightly.

After her grandfather passed away, she had dreamt of him. She’d dreamt of her parents, too, though she couldn’t even remember their faces anymore.

In her dreams, they all accused her, asking her why she had done it.

She dreamt of her grandfather coming to claim her life, asking how she could try to kill him when he had been so good to her.

’I didn’t really mean for it to happen,’ she thought. ’But whose fault was it that Grandfather never forced Quentin Blackwood to marry me?’

"Joy, can you really live with yourself in this world? Look at your grandfather. Can your conscience truly be at peace?"

"I... I..." Joy Sheridan was speechless.

Back in Lustre, she had been able to hold it all in. But now, in front of her grandfather’s grave, she finally broke.

Everything erupted. Joy Sheridan roared, "But it’s all because of you! Because I love you too much, Quentin! I met you first! Why don’t you love me? I love you so much, so why couldn’t you even spare me a glance? Why couldn’t you marry me! If it weren’t for you, I never would have gone down this path!"

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