The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 272

Chapter 272 It’s Me Wynter

Wynter asked slowly, “Who was it?”

“I… I don’t know.” Fanny looked terrified as her gaze darted from left to right. “I can’t say it, not to anyone. It’ll be the end of me!”

Wynter observed Fanny’s frantic state and incoherent muttering. The symptoms seemed familiar. At the thought of this, Wynter reached out to take Fanny’s pulse. It was beating erratically.

Wynter grabbed Fanny by the jaw and forced Fanny to meet her gaze.

Her expression darkened as she asked, “Has someone hypnotized

you before?”

“It’ll be the end of me.” Fanny began to slap herself like she had gone insane. “Keep your m*uth shut! Keep your m*uth shut!”

The next second, she broke down sobbing. “Yvette, you’re my only hope. You have to do well in medicine. Once you graduate, I can

with you in the big city.”

She clutched Wynter’s hand. “Yvette, did you buy your brother a house like you promised? I knew I could depend on you. You’re much better than that useless daughter of mine!”

Wynter stiffened at this information. “You have a daughter?”

“I had a hard time conceiving, and childbirth was rough. I had a daughter in the end, but what good was that?” Fanny muttered.

She then stared at Wynter, belligerent. “How did I only end up with a

daughter? She was a curse to me, and she was sick all the time. I decided she was better off dead and smothered her.

“I must have a boy this time!” She looked around wildly and grabbed a pillow, raising it. “Look, Dickson! It’s a boy!”

Seeing this, Wynter knew she wouldn’t get any more answers out of Fanny. Such was the ugly truth of Paradise Village, and Wynter could do nothing to change it. The whole reason she came here was to

reveal its true colors to the world.

This was why young women had to be educated and be brave enough to broaden their horizons. They had to know there was a bigger world

out there.

No soul should be trapped in the depths of these mountains, hidden from the real world. At least Wynter’s trip here had been meaningful.

She had ended up saving someone’s life.

As for the spell that had been put on Fanny, Wynter figured that a

local tribe could have been behind it. Perhaps it was the Mesano

Tribe, who was known for practicing witchcraft in this day and ag

Her long fingers drummed against the edge of her bed, a telltale sign of her pondering. It was expensive to engage a voodoo master at this

time and age. For someone to use voodoo on Fanny, the person must

have been desperate to keep Wynter’s identity a secret.