He Waited She Wilted (Ottilie and Yorath) novel Chapter 171

Yorath took the medication, disinfecting and dressing the wounds on the soles of her feet.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed and touched her cheek.

Ottilie turned her face away, rejecting his touch.

Yorath gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him as he stared into her eyes.

"Who hit you?"

"I don't remember."

She couldn't remember how she got separated from Fabian.

Nor could she remember how Yorath had found her.

It was an aftereffect of taking too many pills at St. Dymphna's Psychiatric Facility; whenever she experienced extreme emotional distress, it triggered memory loss.

Just like the last time she was kidnapped, she couldn't remember a single thing afterward.

That was why she needed to carry a recording pen with her at all times.

Yorath's lips curled into a cold smirk, a sign that he was absolutely furious.

"Who are you trying to protect this time?"

"I really don't remember." Ottilie honestly didn't care much whether Yorath believed her or not.

She didn't want to waste her breath either; lying in bed, she felt exhausted and just wanted to sleep.

But to Yorath, her dismissive attitude felt like a blatant brush-off.

He stared at her unblinkingly, his gaze practically piercing her skin.

Under such intense scrutiny, whatever sleepiness she felt evaporated.

She had no choice but to brace herself and deal with him.

"Yorath, I might have hurt myself during an episode, really. I didn't run into anyone. Did you find Fabian? We got separated, and he filmed a lot of..."

Before Ottilie could finish, Yorath clamped his hand around her jaw.

"You colluded with Lachlan Schmidt, snuck out here behind my back, and almost got yourself killed. And now you're worrying about another man? Ottilie, is this the only explanation you're going to give me?"

Ottilie said calmly, "Mr. Schmidt invested in the wilderness survival show and wanted me to join. The pay is good. One of the clauses in our contract states that I have the right to take on projects privately."

"So you think I don't give you enough?" Yorath asked.

Knowing this wasn't the time to provoke him, Ottilie remained silent.

"If you want something, you can tell me. You shouldn't be associating with Lachlan behind my back."

Yorath stopped barely a millimeter from her face, the icy gleam in his eyes growing even sharper.

"Ottilie, you forced my hand."

He didn't kiss her; he simply bound her hands and forced her face-down onto the bed.

Sensing the danger, Ottilie struggled, but it was already too late.

"Yorath, no! I don't want this. I don't love you, please don't do this to me..."

Yorath covered her mouth, stifling her cries.

Feeling her body trembling violently beneath him, his breathing grew ragged, the muscles across his entire body pulling taut.

Pressing against Ottilie's back, Yorath held her tight.

"Tilly, what exactly did you do with Lachlan? Did he touch you?"

His breath ghosted over the back of her neck, chilling as frost, making every hair on her body stand on end.

"There's nothing going on between Mr. Schmidt and me..."

Ottilie's voice broke off the very second her soul was violently pierced.