True Tycoon Her Empire, Her Rules

Dotty got the perfect excuse to explain away the slanderous accusations Winnie was tobbing her way at that moment. 

Sure enough, when Dotty made her claim, Springer, standing nearby, seemed genuinely shocked to learn there was history to the matter. His gaze shifted to Winnie, filled with disdain. “You’re being petty, Winnie. Dotty hasn’t done anything to you. Why are you making a fuos on your first day back? You’re acting like a real piece of work… 

Before he could finish his thought, a cold voice, tinged with authority, cut through the air, silencing him instantly. “Springer.” 

Those syllables were enough to zip his lips. Looking at Horace, Springer saw the smile on his face had chilled considerably. Springer shrank back, wisely choosing to remain silent, though his eyes still bore resentment toward Winnie. 

With Springer taking her side, Dotty stood tall, her entire demeanor exuding the confidence of someone wrongly accused. 

“Miss Winnic, you can search my room if you don’t trust me! I have nothing to hide. I am only a maid, but I won’t stand for baseless accusations!” 

The commotion had drawn the attention of the household staff, but none dared to approach too 

closely.. 

From a distance, they overheard enough to sour their impressions of the newly returned young lady. Rumor had it she was raised in a wealthy family, looking down from her lofty perch at those who served as nannies and maids. 

No one appreciated being scorned, and naturally, the staff’s opinion of Winnie, fresh back in the family fold, wasn’t too favorable. 

Horace noted the staff’s cold stares toward Winnie. As he was about to end the scene, Winnie spoke again, her voice calm and measured, “When did I say she stole money?” 

Everyone fell silent as they processed her words. 

Springer couldn’t help but interject, “You have just said Dotty stole money. Now you’re backpedaling?” 

Winnie gave him a sidelong glance. “I said she stole the Bryant family’s fortune, not money. 

The accusation of theft had come from Amber, who perhaps had intentionally misled or misinterpreted, but it was clear everyone had been led astray by her words. 

“There’s a difference between stealing fortune and stealing money.” explained Winnie. 

At least, fortune was not something you could find with a search. That was why Dotty had so boldly invited them to search earlier. 

But Springer was utterly confused and thought Winnie was just being evasive. “How can you steal fortune? Don’t bring up this mystical nonsense. It sounds like a bunch of bullshit.” 

Horace shot him a warning look. Even if Winnie was bluffing, her status gave her the right to do so, didn’t it? And somehow, Horace had a hunch that Winnie was telling the truth. The upper class often respected esoteric practices, and even the Bright Group had a few well–known exorcism masters they consulted with. 

But his sister was only eighteen. Could she understand such things? 

While Horace harbored his doubts, he didn’t dismiss Winnie’s words as foolishness like the 

others. 

Uninterested in further debate with Springer, Winnie turned back to Dotty and suddenly pointed to a spot in the garden. 

“What did you bury over there?” Asking, Winnie pointed at a corner of the garden, where Dotty had glanced at earlier while lost in thought. 

Already on edge, Dotty felt panic as Winnie pointed out the exact location. A bead of sweat threatened to slide down her forehead. 

Impossible. Winnie couldn’t know it. 

Observing Dotty’s reaction, Clifford had his suspicions confirmed. He nodded to the butler, instructing. “Go check it out.” 

The butler, curious himself, hastened toward the spot Winnie indicated. 

The onlookers followed, converging around the flower bed in question. 

While the others were driven by curiosity, Springer was skeptical, his expression challenging as he followed. 

The butler started digging through the freshly turned soil with a trowel and unearthed a black plastic bundle. The butler unwrapped the plastic to reveal a paper packet, releasing a foul stench. 

The butler couldn’t help but flinch, suppressing a wave of nausea, about to grab the paper packet when suddenly, he was stopped by Winnie from the side, “Don’t touch it.” 

Everyone turned their heads, just as Winnie stepped forward, mysteriously producing a talisman, which she promptly affixed to the packet. 

With Winnie’s nod, the butler cautiously opened the packet to find a piece of paper, commonly used for astrological consultations, with life details written in what looked like dried blood, alongside a few strands of hair and a paper with odd symbols. It gave off an aura akin to some cursed artifact. 

It was evident that someone had buried these items intentionally, and given Winnie’s earlier statements, it wasn’t hard for everyone to surmise their purpose. 

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But could such strange artifacts steal someone’s fortune? 

As the reality set in that something truly had been in the soll, even Springer was dumbstruck. his eyes darting back to Dotty. 

Dotty’s lips quivered, and her face painted with injustice. “No, no, it wasn’t me. I swear I’ve never seen these things before. Mr. Springer, Miss Amber, you’ve got to believe me…” 

Springer opened his mouth to speak, but Winnie had already spoken up, her voice calm and detached. “Well, we’ll find out soon enough from the security footage.” 

She had already reviewed the footage. Bryant Manor’s surveillance covered nearly every nook and cranny, making it easy to unveil the truth. © NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“A luck–stealing curse must be inscribed with the blood of the courier. In this case, you and the strands of hair from the package belong to a member of the Bryant family. You’ve attempted to steal the family’s fortune through the Bryant family’s bloodline. Am I wrong?” 

Upon hearing this, Dotty trembled violently, her complexion turning ghostly pale as she collapsed to the floor. 

Her reaction was a dead giveaway to everyone present that she was 

the culprit. 

As for the hair, Dotty had served the Bryant family for many years, and obtaining a few strands was trivial for her. 

The only question remaining was whose unlucky tresses she had snatched. 

“Just because she buried it doesn’t mean she’s guilty of stealing any fortune. Maybe…” Springer was stubbornly defensive, but Horace shot him a cold glare with piercing eyes. 

“Zip it. Don’t make me repeat it!”