He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 149

Seeing the pure panic on his face, Joanna didn't waste a second and dialed Yorath's number immediately.

The moment it connected, Yves shouted into the phone. "Mr. Fordham, it's Yves. Ms. Sewell went to the Patagonian Wilds for a survival show, and the news just reported a massive landslide! Her whole crew is completely unreachable—"

Before he could even finish the sentence, the line went dead.

Joanna watched as Yves paced the living room, limping on his bad leg, completely consumed by anxiety.

She set his breakfast down. "Please, try not to worry. Ms. Sewell is going to be alright."

"She's a woman alone in a primordial forest! How could she possibly be alright? I'm going to find her."

He grabbed his coat and headed for the door on his bad leg.

Joanna quickly blocked his path. "You need to calm down! Do you even know exactly where she is? If you just blindly go there, you won't find her, and you'll probably get yourself killed. Mr. Fordham is powerful enough to track her down."

Yves limped back inside, ripped open his laptop, and frantically started searching for updates.

There were barely one or two news reports available, and absolutely zero concrete details.

His usual refined demeanor completely shattered as he snapped at her, "Get out. I don't want to look at you right now."

Hospital.

The moment Yorath hung up, he immediately dialed Jevon.

"I have her location. She's shooting a survival show in the mountains, and a landslide just wiped out the entire crew."

Jevon let out a string of vicious curses. "Where the hell did she find a gig like that? Who had a death wish and booked her behind our backs? If she loses that kid, who's going to pay for it?!"

"Hire every professional mountain rescue team you can find," Yorath ordered. "I'll get her exact coordinates. You lead the team in."

It didn't take long for him to find out that Lachlan Schmidt's company was the only one that had filed permits for a wilderness survival shoot.

All traces of Lachlan's aristocratic elegance vanished. He ripped off his tie, cursing Yorath's entire bloodline.

He kicked the car door open. "You Fordhams act like you're so utterly devoted, but underneath it all, you're just heartless garbage."

He threw his tie onto the pavement and aggressively ground it under his heel.

"You're not good enough for her, Yorath. I'll find her before you do. And when I do, I'll tell her you've been planning to dump her this whole time—that you only kept her around because the sex was good! I'll tell her every single one of you Fordhams is a cold-blooded bastard. I'll tell her exactly what happened to Mandy, so she realizes she's just Mandy 2.0. And you... you're just a carbon copy of Lyle."

Leaving that final venomous threat hanging in the air, he stormed off.

The car door clicked shut.

Yorath remained in the shadows of the backseat, his expression utterly chilling and merciless.

The veins on the back of the hand resting casually on his lap bulged as his fingers slowly curled into a white-knuckled fist.