Chapter 42: Chapter 42: Holly Sinclair Crushes Vivian Linton
Mrs. Quincy eyed Vivian Linton.
"The camellia is also known as the ’decapitation flower.’ When the blossoms wither, the entire flower head falls off, calyx and all, just like a severed head... Mrs. Quincy, please don’t blame Holly. I’m sure she didn’t do it on purpose."
"What?!"
Hearing this, Penelope Quincy was so furious she looked ready to tear Holly Sinclair apart. "Does the Quincy family have a grudge against you? How dare you harbor such vicious intentions?"
But to her surprise—
"To a person with a dark heart, everything looks dark."
The cold, mocking words came from none other than Mrs. Quincy herself.
At the same time, she tugged her granddaughter’s hand, signaling for her to calm down.
"Mrs. Quincy... what do you mean by that?"
Vivian was stunned, completely bewildered for a moment.
’I feel like that was a dig at me.’
But Mrs. Quincy couldn’t be bothered with her.
"You, come here." She beckoned to Holly again.
Holly forcefully shook off Tristan Sterling.
She walked toward Mrs. Quincy.
Tristan’s brows furrowed. He reached out to grab her again, but his hand was caught by Vivian.
"Tristan, did I say the wrong thing just now? I... I was just so worried I wasn’t thinking straight. I was too anxious, I wanted to plead for Holly..." Vivian’s eyes welled with tears, her face a perfect picture of remorse and distress.
"Mm," Tristan grunted in response.
Hearing the dismissive tone in his voice, Vivian followed his gaze.
She found his attention was completely fixed on Mrs. Quincy and Holly.
Annoyance and hatred welled up inside her, but she didn’t dare say another word.
The scene Vivian had been anticipating never happened.
When Holly stood before Mrs. Quincy, not only did the old woman not slap her, but she even looked at her with a kind expression.
"Young lady, why did you add a camellia like this to the qipao?"
Mrs. Quincy’s gaze was piercing, but her aged face held a look of comfort. As she looked at Holly, it was as if she were seeing an old friend.
"Because the camellia is elegant and resilient, romantic and passionate. It suits your temperament perfectly," Holly replied formally.
"The embroidery is exquisite. I am very satisfied." Mrs. Quincy’s eyes grew slightly moist.
"Grandma?"
"What?"
Penelope and Vivian were both in shock.
They were completely baffled by this sudden turn of events.
Vivian, in particular, could hardly believe her ears.
’Shouldn’t that old hag Mrs. Quincy have slapped Holly hard across the face?’
’I was waiting to see Holly made into a laughingstock!’
’I was waiting to see her hands crippled!’
’And this damned old woman actually said she was satisfied?!’
"What is your name?" Mrs. Quincy asked, her eyes fixed on Holly.
"My name is Holly Sinclair, Madam Quincy."
"What is your relationship with Melody?"
"She was my maternal grandmother."
"You’re Melody’s granddaughter!"
Mrs. Quincy exclaimed, grabbing Holly’s small hand in her excitement.
"Yes," Holly nodded obediently.
"No wonder your embroidery is so masterful. It’s every bit as good as your grandmother’s, if not better..."
Tears welled in Mrs. Quincy’s old eyes. She nodded repeatedly, choking back a sob as she murmured, "Wonderful, truly wonderful. Melody’s legacy will continue."
Their conversation left everyone else confused.
Finally, Penelope was the first to react. "Grandma, are you saying she’s Master Melody Mayfield’s granddaughter?"
A gasp went through the crowd at her words.
Tristan Sterling stared deeply at the ever-composed Holly Sinclair.
A complex emotion flickered in his eyes.
’What?’
’Impossible!!’
Vivian almost screamed out loud.
She clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white, barely managing to keep her composure in front of Tristan.
’Holly Sinclair is Master Melody Mayfield’s granddaughter?!’
’How could she be?!’
’Why does she get to have such incredible inherited talent?’
The corner of Vivian’s eye twitched.
Jealousy twisted her features into an ugly mask.
"When I saw this white camellia, I guessed you had a connection to Melody. But I never imagined you would be her granddaughter."
Mrs. Quincy looked down at the qipao, her wrinkled hand gently stroking the white camellia blossom.
She was overcome with emotion.
"Madam Quincy, I hope you don’t blame me for taking matters into my own hands," Holly said softly.
"How could I? My dear girl, you’ve resolved a deep regret for me!" Mrs. Quincy’s eyes reddened as she cried tears of joy.
Holly’s grandmother, whose real name was Thea White, had been best friends with Mrs. Quincy.
The two of them had been incredibly close.
Years ago, after Thea had finished making this qipao for her best friend, they had the sudden idea to embroider a white camellia on it.
It was meant to symbolize their deep bond as sisters, never to be parted.
But tragically, Thea passed away that very night.
So, this qipao was not only Thea White’s final creation but also the source of Mrs. Quincy’s greatest regret.
Now, the white camellia was finally embroidered on the qipao.
It was finally complete.
"Grandma, what on earth are you two talking about?" Penelope grew more confused the more she listened.
"It’s nothing."
Mrs. Quincy couldn’t be bothered to explain. She held onto Holly’s small hand, unwilling to let go, her eyes filled with admiration and affection. "From now on, your studio will be responsible for all the new seasonal collections for the women of the Quincy family."
Vivian, who had been consumed by jealousy, heard this, and her eyes suddenly lit up.
Hope instantly ignited in her heart.
’Oh my god!’
’I’ve succeeded!’
’As long as the Quincy women are wearing qipaos I designed, my name is sure to become famous.’
’By then, my name will soon be known all over the world.’
’Even though Holly stole the show today, getting this unexpected windfall still makes me the winner.’
Vivian was ecstatic.
She couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across her face.
Just as she was about to step forward and thank Mrs. Quincy, she heard the old woman ask Holly, "Are you the designer for this studio?"
Vivian’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly interjected, "Yes—"
’I can’t let this slip through my fingers.’
"No," Holly cut her off coolly.
"Holly!"
Vivian was furious.
"I am a designer at Julian’s Studio." Holly didn’t even bother to spare her a glance.
"It doesn’t matter which studio you work for. From now on, I only want you to design the qipaos for the Quincy women!" Mrs. Quincy patted Holly’s hand affectionately.
"Thank you, Madam Quincy." Holly beamed.
Vivian’s hopes were dashed.
Her face turned ashen.
...
「Night fell.」
Holly got off the bus and started walking toward her residential complex.
As she passed a small alley, a hand suddenly shot out, clamped over her mouth, and dragged her deep into the darkness.
"Mmph..."
The color drained from her face as she struggled in a panic.
But her attacker was too strong; she couldn’t break free.
Sensing the danger, she quickly forced herself to calm down.
She lifted her foot and stomped down hard.
"AH!"
She’d hit the man’s foot.
A sharp high heel to the instep is excruciatingly painful.
The man cried out in pain and let her go.
Holly bolted, running for her life.
"Help!"
She screamed at the top of her lungs as she ran.
But she lived in an old residential complex.
At night, there was hardly anyone around.
No one heard her cries for help.
Holly was terrified.
She ran with all her might, but it was impossible to move fast in high heels.
In her panic, she kicked off her shoes and ran barefoot.
But in the pitch-black alley, the ground was uneven, and her feet were soon cut by sharp little stones.
"Ah!"
Finally, the pain caused her to stumble and fall.
Just as she tried to scramble up and keep running, the man caught up and grabbed her viciously by the hair.
"Trying to run?"
