He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 113

Bringing her to his private dinner made everyone in the room instantly guarded.

Lachlan addressed the table. "Ms. Sewell is now a signed artist under my company. Moving forward, I plan to throw my full backing behind her. I want her to become an A-list star within the year."

"If Yorath Fordham couldn't make her famous, I will. If he couldn't afford to support her, I will."

By giving her his official stamp of approval, the others immediately adopted a more polite tone.

Lachlan turned to her. "I've arranged a spot for you on a wilderness survival reality show in the Patagonian Wilds. It'll be brutal, but if you can take the crown, it's guaranteed to skyrocket your popularity."

"After that wraps, in the latter half of the year, I'm putting you on a prominent dance competition show. I remember your jazz routines were incredible."

"On top of that, I'm securing you the lead in an epic, angst-filled high fantasy romance drama. With your talent, as long as the script holds up, one year is all you need to turn everything around."

Lachlan was a businessman through and through.

He knew exactly how to maximize his assets.

He mapped out a framework that weaponized every single one of her strengths.

It was a strategy designed for rapid virality—as long as she had the actual skills to back it up, failure wasn't an option.

To maintain longevity in the entertainment industry, the era of coasting on a single hit project was long gone.

The career trajectory Yorath had planned for her had been vastly different.

From the moment she signed with him, she had been strictly put on the cinematic route.

She rarely took on commercial gigs.

She maintained an aura of exclusivity and mystery.

Reality TV and mainstream dramas were entirely off-limits.

As Ottilie remained silent, Lachlan casually draped an arm over her shoulder.

Leaning in, he murmured, "Don't worry. My artists never have to sleep their way to the top or entertain sleazy executives. If anyone needs to be entertained, I'll do it myself. If anyone dares to cross the line with you, beat them half to death. I'll cover up the mess."

Someone else had said those exact words to her once.

"Thank you, Mr. Schmidt." She smiled, her slender eyes naturally exuding a captivating warmth.

Lachlan felt a jolt run straight to his soul, leaving him momentarily buzzing.

Right at that moment, the door to the private room was suddenly pushed open.

Lachlan smiled graciously, thanking her.

Ottilie stood rooted to her spot, observing the dignified woman.

She was regal, exuding a serene, unbothered elegance.

Every movement she made carried the refined air of high society.

Without needing an introduction, Ottilie knew this was Yorath's mother.

He had inherited all of her striking beauty.

It was the kind of beauty that demanded distance—the sort that made people afraid to approach, making even the thought of desiring it feel like a desecration.

At that moment, Nyssa turned to Marcella. "Mrs. Fordham, look, that's Ms. Sewell over there."

Marcella shifted her gaze to Ottilie standing at the very back, her eyes curving slightly. "Ah, Ms. Sewell has business with Lachlan as well."

Nyssa chimed in, "Everyone collaborates in this industry. Please don't misunderstand, Mrs. Fordham. Ms. Sewell loves Yorath more than anything. She would absolutely never do anything to betray him."

Marcella kept her eyes fixed on Ottilie. "Is that so?"