His Ex-Wife Is A Billionaire (Evadne and Thaddeus) novel Chapter 688

Jareth slumped into the living room, his mood a heavy thundercloud. Lily had just coaxed Marilla to sleep and was descending the staircase.

His gaze lifted wearily, clashing inadvertently with hers, startling her so much that she quickly lowered her head.

"Don’t hang your head so low. Burying it in the ground, what, you’re an ostrich?" He said with a hint of irritation knitting his brows.

Jareth settled onto the couch, pulling a cigarette from its pack and placing it between his lips, but he hesitated to light it, remembering Marilla hated the smell of smoke.

Lily dared not lift her gaze. Usually so aloof and proud in front of others, she now stood there, meek and guilt-ridden, wishing she could disappear into a crack in the floor.

"Come here."

The few steps to Jareth felt like an eternity for Lily.

"Is Marilla asleep?" His voice was a deep rumble.

"Yes." Lily's voice trembled, her eyes downcast, "I’ll pack my things and leave right away. I won't trouble you any further."

"Stay," Jareth commanded coldly, yet his words were a reprieve to Lily.

"You and Marilla are like sisters. I know she can’t even eat without you."

Jareth plucked the cigarette from his mouth and snapped it in his hand, his heart not quite hard enough to dismiss this woman who had been so loyal to him, "Stay and take care of Marilla. Even though you’ve ruined a couple of her dresses with your clumsy laundry skills and your cooking is mediocre at best. I trust no one else with her. Just don't let there be a second time, or I won't fire you; I’ll chop you."

The threat was obviously in jest, yet Lily still felt the weight of shame; head down, she barely held back tears.

"I'm sorry, I won't let it happen again."

Deep into the night.

Jareth, dressed in a pajama set that matched his wife's, was reviewing documents by the soft glow of a floor lamp. He wasn't possessed by the workaholic spirit of a Thaddeus; he was simply restless and unable to sleep, looking for a distraction.

“Uh, don’t hit me! Don’t hit me!”

Suddenly, Marilla kicked the covers in her sleep, her body twisting as if pinned down, her cries muffled with panic, "Don't hit me, don't hit me! I'm a retard, I'm an idiot! Please, stop hitting me!"

"Marilla!"

Jareth's pupils contracted, and he rushed to the bedside, scooping her slender waist and holding this girl trapped in a nightmare into his arms, "It's okay, it's okay. Your husband's right here; don't be afraid."

"Don't hit me, please stop."