The Killer Queen by Noella Briony

Chapter 142 Yvonne was at her wit's end! Her looks and upbringing were all superior to Noella’s. Yvonne had been received top-notch education since she was in diapers, so how on earth was Noella, that backwoods bumpkin, outshining her? Staring at her phone, she could see the marketing teams under Stirling’s command were practically rocketing Noella’s artwork to the stars! Yvonne felt a pang of heartache so acute it was as if her heart was bleeding. Her gaze shifted to Ashlyn, whose breathing was fragile and weak, and a wave of self-pity washed over her.

Why should Noella be out there living it up while she was stuck in this sterile hospital, keeping company with an old woman who was more dead than alive? Now that Ashlyn had divorced Marcel, the title of being related to her meant nothing to Yvonne anymore. With a look of cold indifference, Yvonne stood up from beside Ashlyn’s ICU bed and walked out without a backward glance.

She was expected to stay here with this old woman while the Schnabel family was ready to ship her off to Gerastor, never to return? Fat chance! Yvonne called Walden once again, “Walden, let's revisit our last conversation, shall we? | assure you, there won't be any slip-ups this time!” “Find yourself somewhere to stay. I'll get back to you,” Walden said, ready to hang up, but Yvonne quickly added, “I'm...out of money.” “You're the daughter of the Schnabel family, and you don’t even have enough to cover a hotel stay? Fine, Ill transfer sto you.” Walden frowned, his eyes filled with disdain and evuBl think a daughter of the Schnabel family had fallen this low; clearly, her brains were just for show.

After the call, Yvonne glanced at her account balance, freshly padded with funds, and left the hospital without a second look.

Meanwhile, Noella was. collaborating with Master Killian-on-a painting, and word-had already spread throughout the industry.

When Annie handed Palmer the phone, he was in the midst of a merger meeting, calculating financial risks with his partners, all of whom were on the edge of their seats. Suddenly, they saw their stone-faced, iron-willed boss break into a smile - a tender, adoring smile that seemed to melt in the warmth of his gaze. A chill ran down the spines of everyone present.

After Annie explained that the boss's fiancée, Noella Schnabel of the Schnabel family, was a direct mentee of Master Killian, it all made sense.

No wonder their boss showed such a gentle side when it cto Noella. A socialite as talented as her was bound to be Palmer's pride and joy.

The partners began to whisper among themselves, “I caught Ms. Schnabel’s birthday live stream; the Schnabels certainly dote on their daughter.” “Joking aside, if your kid was that accomplished, wouldn't you dote on them?” “If my daughter was Master Killian’s mentee and any single person in Imperial City didn’t know about it, I'd say | failed in my PR duties!” Palmer, watching Noella in the video, thought she looked just as lovely painting. Her arm muscles moved with grace and elegance, each gesture like a dance of the sprites.

“Save the video,” Since he couldn't be there in person, he wanted to savor the sight of his girl shining brightly.

“It’s already saved, and I've selected the best shots from the media for your phone,” Annie confirmed professionally.

Palmer nodded, satisfied, and returned to his meeting - albeit at a noticeably faster pace. It was clear to all that the boss was eager to wrap up.

What was supposed to be a three-hour asset evaluation was done in half an hour. Palmer, signing documents, asked curtly. “What tis it?” “Six o'clock. The exhibition is over, and Ms. Noella hasn't left work yet. Master Killian has already gone home,” Annie reported.

Palmer capped his pen and pushed the signed papers forward. As the partners looked up, Palmer's silhouette had already vanished from the conference room! The gallery exhibition wrapped up quickly.

The media reluctantly left the venue, many hoping to interview Noella, but Stirling, the super-popular star and first-ever grand slam best actor winner, gracefully deflected them. His mere smile satisfied the eager cameras.

In showbiz, Stirling was the epitof someone with incredibly large fan bases.

After the media flurry, Beckett saw the elders off.

Marcel, beaming with pride, patted Noella’s hand, “Noella, you've done well. But don’t overdo it; you're the youngest of our family. There's no need to push yourself so hard, though | am proud of you!” Tristan chimed in, “Your mom and | are proud of you too! But don’t wear yourself out. If the gallery needs anything, ctodirectly. You don’t need to worry about any trivial matter.” He'd just taken the opportunity to scour the gallery's accounts, looking for any discrepancies to protect his precious daughter, but found she'd managed everything perfectly. His daughter was practically the one and the only genius! “I got it. I'm not tired.” After the Schnabels left, a cluster of artists lingered by Noella’s paintings, not wanting to leave.

“Ms. Schnabel, could we possibly join the gallery? We're here to learn, and we don’t need to be paid!” “Yes, Ms. Schnabel, just being able to study Master Killian’s work would be enough. We don’t need salaries!” Noella glanced at the group of artists before her.

“Those interested, send your resumes to my email. If you're a good fit, I'll invite you through the proper channels, and you will be paid fairly.” She was not the kind of boss who exploited her staff.

“Alright, we’ll send them right away!” Travis approached Noella, his face alight with excitement, “Ms. Schnabel, today’s exhibition was a smashing success. Your collaboration piece with Master Killian is now hanging in the prspot.” “Thank you for your hard work.” Noella strode into her office, trading her evening gown for a sharp business suit. Tying her misty locks into a tight bun, she exuded an authoritative aura.

She picked up the report form on her desk, noting a few figures circled in red ink by someone, each followed by new data precise to three decimal places.

A sticky note with a cartoon bear fluttered to the floor.

“Sweetheart, found stiny issues with the numbers, but I've fixed them for you. Don’t work too hard! Love you - Dad.” A warm smile graced Noella’s lips. She wondered when Tristan had slipped into her office.

The thought of him poring over report form and leaving her cute sticky notes while she was out warmed her heart.

As dusk settled, Travis rapped on the glass door of the office, “Ms. Schnabel, everyone's left for the day. You should head home, too.” “Alright, you go ahead. I'll be out soon; just need to finish up here.” “Don’t overdo it, Ms. Schnabel!” Once Travis left, Noella turned her attention back to the data on the report, her brow furrowing slightly.

Her phone rang: she answered it on autopilot Palmer's voice cthrough, “Still burning the midnight oltz Hit a snag?” Wrapping up now,” Noella stood, and turning, caught sight of a man standing across the street, in the night’s embrace, Palmer stood alone, an untouchable chill about him. But when his gaze met hers, stars seemed to fall, his eyes impossibly tender, “Have you been waiting long?” “Just five minutes. I'm taking you out for dinner. | don’t mind my fiancée being a workshots, but you still need to eat,” Noella flicked off the office lights and made her way downstairs. In the darkness, her voice carried a playful lilt, “Beckett thinks you might prefer a domestic goddess.” Beckett wasn’t wrong; most heirs to prominent families married genteel, nurturing women.

Palmer's deep chuckle filled Noella’s ears, “I don’t do well with labels, but I'm not drawn to power women or domestic goddesses; I'm drawn to you, and only you. It’s not about social rotes.” His words wrapped around her like a caress, a whisper shared between loved ones in the quiet of the night.