He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 153

Heath strolled over at a leisurely pace and sat down next to Lachlan, a mocking smirk playing on his refined, almost feminine features.

"You're not looking too good, dear brother."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Lachlan's guard was instantly up.

"Dad's worried about you. He sent me to bring you home."

"I'm not leaving until we find her."

Heath couldn't hold back a snort of laughter.

"Come on, Lachlan, are you seriously trying to play the tragic romantic like Yorath? Do you really think you can mobilize dozens of excavators, a massive search and rescue fleet, and airlift dismantled heavy machinery into a remote mountain range in a matter of days?"

This wasn't an issue that could be solved by just throwing money at it.

Coordinating multiple agencies, absorbing the astronomical losses of pulling commercial equipment off active construction sites—these weren't things an ordinary billionaire could manage.

Pulling strings across the entire country required absolute, unadulterated power.

The Fordhams had immense wealth, but the Harringtons possessed terrifying political influence.

Among the elite heirs, only Yorath had the authority to initiate a mobilization of this scale.

Not even Lyle or Yorath's father, Lorenzo, could pull it off.

Lachlan caught the sharp mockery in Heath's words but, for the first time, didn't argue back. He lapsed into a long, heavy silence.

"If you ask me, you'd better run while you still can," Heath advised with a sneer. "Yorath is out for blood right now. Once he recovers from his little heartbreak, you won't even have the chance to escape."

"Dad said it's best you lay low abroad for a few years so you don't drag the family down with you. I'll be taking over the company in your absence."

Heath had coveted the empire for years.

It had been so long that he had genuinely believed he'd never get his shot.

But to his delight, his perfect older brother just had to slip up and hand him the opportunity on a silver platter.

It would be an insult to Lachlan's 'generosity' if he didn't take it.

Just as Heath was basking in his triumph, Lachlan spoke, his tone unhurried.

"Yorath certainly has the power to move heaven and earth to dig Ottilie out. But the moment he pulls that trigger, he can kiss his political and corporate future goodbye. Why should I be afraid of him?"

He ground his teeth together, his face flushing crimson with absolute fury.

He was so angry that he suddenly burst into a manic, roaring laugh.

"Is this exactly how you used Mandy all those years ago? Pimping out your own woman and handing her over to Lyle Fordham? You're right, I really can't compare to you. I could never bring myself to wear a cuckold's hat by my own design!"

The rest was chaos.

The bodyguards stationed outside only heard a massive crash.

It was followed by the brutal sounds of fists connecting with bone.

A long time passed before Heath crawled out of the tent.

As he dragged himself along the ground, he continued to laugh.

It was a deranged, terrifying sound.

"Our social circle is so incredibly filthy! And you, Lachlan... you're the absolute worst of them all."