He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 118

Jevon stared at her as if she were a monster.

"He only got into the accident because he took your call and was rushing like a maniac to find you! Are you hoping he dies? Do you even have a heart left?"

Her heart had been plastered to the cold walls of that psychiatric ward the day she finally walked out.

She turned her head, staring blankly out the window, refusing to answer.

Jevon let out a bitter, mocking laugh. "I always said you were a viper that could never be tamed."

She maintained her absolute silence.

Perhaps driven by pure rage, he suddenly threw something at her.

She caught it. It was a small, heavy pouch.

"Your passport is in there," he snapped. "I'm taking you to the airport. Get on the first flight out of the country."

She looked over at him. "Was the crash that bad?"

"The fuel tank ruptured on impact. Some bystanders managed to drag him out of the wreckage, but he suffered severe head trauma. When I left, he was still in emergency surgery. The Harrington and Fordham families are all there. They've issued multiple critical condition notices, and top specialists are being flown in. As long as he's breathing, he can protect you. If he dies, absolutely no one can save you."

She unzipped the small pouch. Her passport was indeed inside.

The issue date was from a month ago.

Beneath it sat thick stacks of US dollars, British pounds, and Euros...

Someone had prepared this with terrifying efficiency.

She zipped the bag shut.

"I didn't cause the crash. Why should I run?"

She had less than zero trust in Jevon and his crew.

Had she known Yorath was in an accident before getting into this car, she never would have opened the door.

Years ago, the people who destroyed her had all been the ones closest to her.

The manager who had been with her for years. Director Bryce Cameron, whom she had worked with multiple times.

And those actors—every single one of them had been an acquaintance.

The man smirked back. "Mr. Crawford. Ms. Sewell is suspected of the attempted murder of Yorath Fordham. As the lead detective on this case, I'd appreciate your full cooperation."

True to form, Jevon let out a loud, hollow, playboy laugh.

"I'm a law-abiding citizen, Officer. I will fully cooperate with your investigation. The suspect is right there in the passenger seat. Take her away."

The door next to Ottilie was yanked open.

"Ms. Sewell, we received a report alleging your involvement in the attempted murder of Yorath Fordham. Please come with us to the station for questioning."

"I didn't do it," she said calmly. "I have an alibi."

"His final phone call was to you. Shortly before that, he had a violent altercation with Lachlan Schmidt. Given your close, private association with Mr. Schmidt, you have motive. Step out of the vehicle."

The moment she stepped onto the asphalt, handcuffs were locked tightly around her wrists.

The cold, heavy metal dragged her down, making her spine hunch slightly under the weight.

Jevon stood off to the side, lighting a cigarette. Just as she was being shoved into the police cruiser, he called out, "Officer. She is Yorath Fordham's woman. Magnus Harrington is out of his mind with worry over his grandson right now, so his anger is understandable. In a few days, when Yorath wakes up, the old man will be thrilled, and they'll go back to being a happy family. We, however, are a different story. If Yorath finds out you mishandled her, he won't show you any mercy."