He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 162

June 29, 2026.

The rainstorm raged all night.

Ottilie woke up freezing.

Before she even opened her eyes, her body felt like it weighed a ton, her head spinning with a heavy, throbbing ache.

The massive raindrops beat against her skin, stinging her with relentless intensity.

Realizing her situation, her mind instantly snapped to alertness. She forced her eyes open, only to be greeted by pitch-black darkness.

The only sound was the deafening roar of the rain violently thrashing against the leaves.

The entire world was nothing but black.

It was a terrifying sensation, as if she had been swallowed whole by some massive beast, trapped in its maw.

"Is anyone there?"

She called out.

Her voice was weak, instantly swallowed by the storm.

She struggled to sit up, patting herself down to check her body. Arms and legs were still attached.

She was missing a shoe.

The machete tucked into the back of her waistband was still there.

She wrung the water out of her sleeves and wiped the rain from her face.

As her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom, she could vaguely make out the massive silhouettes of boulders and towering trees in the forest.

Crawling behind a large rock to shield herself from the brunt of the wind and rain, she decided to wait for dawn.

Only when she calmed down did she feel the sharp stings of pain all over her body.

Running her hands over her skin, she felt scrapes and abrasions everywhere.

As the sky gradually lightened, visibility improved.

Ottilie stood up from behind the rock and surveyed her surroundings.

She had been swept halfway up the mountain by the mudslide. The surrounding trees were flattened.

When she took a step, her foot sank deep into the mud.

There was no way to traverse the mudslide and return the way she came to regroup with the production crew.

She had no experience dealing with landslides.

Her instincts told her she needed to climb higher, toward the flatter terrain where the large trees grew densely.

Finding a sturdy branch, she used it as a walking stick and began her ascent.

Ottilie tried to claw at the dirt around him.

The soil was packed tight with sharp gravel; digging with her bare hands was impossible.

"Wait here." She stood up and turned away.

"Ms. Sewell, don't leave..."

Fabian panicked, trying to turn his head but completely immobilized.

"Ms. Sewell, if you save me, I'll tell you a secret!"

"What secret?" she asked, returning with a sturdy branch. She used her machete to sharpen one end into a point and began chipping away at the packed mud.

Fabian opened his mouth, then looked away sheepishly. "I lied. I thought you weren't coming back."

"We don't have any bad blood. You even testified for me before. Why wouldn't I save you?"

"Mr. Fordham paid me. That's the only reason I stepped forward." Fabian was struggling financially. His daughter was in the hospital waiting for a heart transplant.

His wife didn't have a job.

His parents were elderly without pensions.

He needed money for everything.

"Even with money," Ottilie said calmly, "most people wouldn't dare testify against a bunch of rich, powerful men. No one wants to cross them."