Outcast Queen: Her Return from Hell novel Chapter 452

At the Delmar Golf Club, the autumn air was crisp, and the sprawling greens looked immaculate.

Quentin Quincy and Emmett Osborne had both changed into casual autumn golf attire, looking completely relaxed as they enjoyed a rare afternoon of leisure.

"Swish—"

Quentin swung his club with smooth precision, the crisp sound shattering the quiet air.

The white golf ball traced a flawless arc through the sky, dropping perfectly toward the distant hole.

Emmett narrowed his eyes, tracking the white blur until it disappeared cleanly into the cup.

"Beautiful!" He clapped, laughing boisterously, sparing no praise. "Quentin, your swing has only gotten sharper."

Quentin turned around, casually tossing his club to a nearby assistant, and walked back to the resting area.

"My bones were getting a little stiff lately. Since they just renovated the course, I figured it was time to stretch a bit."

Emmett arched an eyebrow. He picked up a bone china teacup, took a sip, and smiled with pointed meaning. "Quentin, the waters in Highcrest have been still for too long. A few ripples here and there aren't necessarily a bad thing. At the very least, it gives a couple of veterans like us some entertainment."

Quentin didn't respond directly, but a sharp glint flashed in his deep, calculating eyes.

Both men were shrewd predators; they easily deciphered the hidden meaning behind the casual banter.

"It's just a shame that people from small towns will never truly grasp how to play on the big stage," Quentin said, slowly wiping his hands. "I thought we were going to see some new tricks, but it's nothing but the same old routine."

"Hahaha!" Emmett laughed loudly. "Quentin, you are the absolute authority in Highcrest. Who would dare cross you? The moment you give the word, people line up just for the privilege of serving you."

Quentin's lips curled slightly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "Emmett, why don't you play a round?"

"Sure thing!" Emmett stood up, pulling a club from his bag. "You'll have to give me some pointers, Quentin. I'm genuinely trying to learn from the best."

"Don't worry, we go way back. I'll take good care of you."

"Perfect!"

Just as Emmett stepped up to take his swing, his personal assistant came sprinting from the distance, drenched in sweat.

"Boss, we have a situation!"

"What are you panicking about? If you ruin Quentin's mood, I'll hold you personally responsible!" Emmett's face darkened as he barked the reprimand. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the gold-stamped invitation clutched tightly in the assistant's hand.

"What is that?"

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