The Mocked Miss’s Hidden Crowns novel Chapter 1761

The Gates Estate.

Five black sedans waited outside the heavy iron gates, perfectly lined up. In the middle, a luxury sports car sat cocooned between two of them, like royalty being escorted by a silent guard.

Once the engines were off, the doors clicked open. Men in black suits stepped out, one after another, and formed two neat rows by the cars, their hands clasped behind their backs. At the center, the lead bodyguard bent down, opened a door, and spoke with quiet respect, “Allanson, we’re here.”

“Alright,” came the reply, deep and rough, the kind that comes from age and too many secrets.

An elderly man with silver-streaked hair stepped carefully out of the car. His black silk suit fit him perfectly, but he moved with a certain frailty. Once on the ground, Allanson took a moment to steady himself, then lifted his head to take in the estate. His eyes lingered over the grand, old-fashioned courtyard. Just past the entrance, a garden bloomed wild with colorful roses, vivid and almost defiant against the weathered stone.

So, this is where Winnie spent her days after she left Isle of Veil. The thought pressed against his chest, leaving his lips drawn tight in a line. For a second, his face betrayed something close to sorrow.

A voice cut through the quiet. “Excuse me, who are you?”

The Gates Family's own bodyguards had noticed the convoy and moved closer, guarded and ready. Their eyes went to Allanson, waiting for an answer.

“My name is Allanson,” he said, walking forward. His voice was seasoned, touched with a bitterness that hinted at a hard life. “I’m Franco’s father. Charlotte’s grandfather.”

Charlotte’s grandfather? From Isle of Veil? The bodyguards traded confused glances, sizing him up. He really did resemble Franco. Still, wasn’t Franco’s whole family on bad terms with Isle of Veil? The tension crackled in the air. Maybe Allanson had come to start trouble.

One of the guards gave a hard look to his junior. “Go let them know we have visitors, now.”

Before the junior could move, another voice echoed from farther down the path—an older man’s, low and unmistakably stern.

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