He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 152

With Yorath making such massive moves, the family back home inevitably found out.

Upon hearing the news, Magnus Harrington simply let out a heavy sigh.

"A pity about the unborn child."

The butler bowed slightly and murmured, "Mr. Yorath's bloodline is impeccable. It seems the child simply wasn't meant to be."

Marcella also caught wind of the situation.

She immediately called Yorath.

"Yorath, you're making far too much noise. You've drawn the attention of multiple factions. This is detrimental to your future. Come home. I miss you."

"Mother, what do you think is the point of a man striving for power his entire life?" Yorath asked.

"My son is meant to stand above everyone else, at a peak no one else can touch."

"I used to think that standing at the pinnacle of power meant I could do whatever I wanted, and refuse whatever I didn't want to do," Yorath said softly. "But if I can't even hold one single person safely in the palm of my hand, what right do I have to look down on the rest of the world?"

"You're a brilliant lawyer, I can't out-argue you. Just give it to me straight—what exactly are you trying to do?"

"I'm bringing her back. If she's alive, she's mine. If she's dead, her corpse is mine. And if she's reduced to a handful of ash, that ash belongs to me."

Marcella had always known that her son—who seemed like the most composed and rational of them all—harbored a stubbornness deep in his bones that bordered on sheer lunacy.

She knew she couldn't pull him back from the edge.

So, she called Nyssa Tarrant.

"Nyssa, I'm sure you've heard the rumors about what Yorath is doing. He's making a massive spectacle out of this search and drawing too much heat. He won't listen to me. Could I ask you to go out there personally and try to talk some sense into him?"

"Don't worry, Mrs. Fordham. I'll head out right away," Nyssa replied smoothly.

She hung up the phone and turned to Kendrick Walden. "So, Ottilie is really dead! And here I was, waiting to see what she had up her sleeve to take me down."

Kendrick had fully accepted the reality of the situation since last night.

He was actually quite thrilled.

"You want me to pack condoms?" Kendrick stared at her in disbelief. "You think Yorath is going to be in the mood for that right now?"

"Opportunities favor the prepared. Men are all the same. He'll grieve for a few days, tops. Remember when he threw her into St. Dymphna's Psychiatric Facility? He didn't even care enough to look her way. Do you honestly believe a man's feelings run that deep?"

Deep in the mountains.

Lachlan had only allowed Elian to slap a quick bandage on the gash Yorath had given him before insisting on staying in the wilderness.

His tent was pitched as far away from Yorath's camp as possible.

On his very first night, he received an unexpected visitor.

Heath Schmidt strolled in, flanked by bodyguards.

His older brother had always been the golden child, the legitimate heir to the Schmidt empire, perched high above everyone else, looking down on them like trash.

But right now, with a bloody bandage wrapped around his throat, his face gaunt and his eyes bloodshot, Lachlan looked like a stray dog.