He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 117

Yorath's voice was deathly calm, devoid of a single ripple of emotion.

Ottilie had been drinking, and as a one-drink lightweight, the longer time passed, the fuzzier her brain became.

She was dangerously close to completely losing it.

Knowing she shouldn't run her mouth, she tried to deflect. "Didn't you throw the gift away yesterday? How did you know it was clothes?"

Had he actually dug through the trash?

"I'll ask you one more time. What exactly did you and Lachlan do together?"

His tone was absolute ice.

Her brain short-circuited. She couldn't think of a single response that would defuse the situation.

Just then, his phone rang.

He answered, and Nyssa's panicked voice immediately spilled through the speaker. "Yorath, Jevon and Lachlan are tearing each other apart! You need to come back right now!"

In the background, Jevon's enraged shouting was clearly audible.

"You son of a bitch! She belongs to Yorath! You don't even have the right to look at her! Even if he throws her out, scum like you would never get a turn!"

Nyssa's frantic voice returned. "Elian, why are you fighting too?! Stop it, all of you! Please stop! Yorath, hurry, I can't hold them back!"

The call ended.

She looked at him. "Yorath, we can talk about our issues when you get back."

He stepped out of the car, yanked her door open, grabbed her by the arm, and practically hauled her upstairs.

Only after he shoved her through her front door did he turn on his heel and leave, his face dark with fury.

She collapsed onto the sofa, the pressure crushing her.

It was the first time she had ever been drunk without making a scene.

Her brain was still somewhat functioning.

She couldn't stay here.

When he came back, she was completely dead.

She was nothing more than a plaything he kept in his bed.

And considering he hadn't actually managed to sleep with her recently, the chances of him showing her any mercy were zero.

Without a second thought, she grabbed her things to run.

In reality, she barely had anything to pack.

Snagging a single bag, she walked out the door.

But once she was outside, she had no idea where to go.

She crouched on the curb, the alcohol finally rushing fully to her head.

Eventually, she hailed a cab and headed to the beach.

Hearing the sound of the ocean through the speaker, he immediately demanded, "Where are you?"

"I'm at the beach."

"What are you doing at the beach?"

"I'm terrified you're going to lock me back in the psychiatric hospital."

The only sound from his end was heavy, jagged breathing.

"Yorath, please just move out of my apartment. When you're there, I can't sleep."

"Don't move," he ordered. "I'm driving over to get you."

"Then you better drive fast. If you're not here in thirty minutes, you'll never see me again."

With that, she ended the call and hurled her phone straight into the crashing waves.

She had no idea how much time passed, but the moon had climbed high into the sky.

Yorath never showed up.

Just as dawn began to break, Jevon arrived in a roaring sports car.

The revving engine sounded distinctly frantic.

He didn't even get out of the car. He just rolled down the window and screamed her full name. "Ottilie! Yorath was in a car crash."

She climbed down from the rocks, slid into the passenger seat, and asked flatly, "Is he dead?"